


Relapse

by robovacation



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: AU, M/M, dickus, robovacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:56:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 128,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2361920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robovacation/pseuds/robovacation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arrogance. Wealth. Sex addiction. A virginal therapist helps a young addict cope with his sexual frustrations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All 21 chaps will be uploaded within a week. Thanks guys!

"Oh fuck yeah, come on. More. More." 

I'm sweating. My unclothed back is pressed against the wall of a very expensive hotel room as the man in front of me slides his mediocre dick inside my nice, tight ass. I wrap my legs around his naked waist and clench his dick so tight that he winces. He goes faster, his hungry cock slides in and out of me so forcefully that my head is slamming into the wall with every erratic thrust. It's annoying. His face has that weird smirk on it so I lift my hand and smack him in his ugly fucking mouth.

"Are you going to fuck me right or are you going to continue acting like some pathetic jack-rabbit virgin?" 

I smile, my perfectly shaped lips curl into my blushless cheeks and I give a reassuring grunt when he lifts me up and throws me on the bed. Looking to the side, I see a mirror. Fuck, I'm beautiful. What man could resist me? 

My damp locks of hair are dark and cut perfectly - ear length, not too long like some degenerate hippy and not too short like some uptight 1950's middle-fucking-American. My long dark lashes sweep over my gorgeously blue eyes while I fixate on the way my perfect dick is shaped. I'm hard. But not as hard as I can get because this guy sucks at fucking. Back to my dick though - it's perfect, a masterpiece - truly. I'm not grotesquely large, about a good seven inches. It's nice and thick and the perfect shade of pink. Guys love pink. Their mouths are attracted to that color. I had that revelation many years ago, but I digress. I'm clean - all shaved. My hygiene is impeccable; I smell fucking amazing even when I'm like this. It's as if every perfectly-sized pore on my skin releases a beautifully intoxicating fragrance that no man can get enough of. My body is small, I'm only about 5'8 but I'm thin and toned. My skin is akin to that of a Greek god it's so damn flawless.

The nameless guy interrupts my observations when he jumps on top of me. He's extremely good looking - as if I would pick up some ugly fucker. Not with my body, my body only wants the best, it deserves the best. He runs his hands over my chest and then plays with my cock like he was born to do only this.

"Do you want me to lick you?" he asks, as if frightened of my answer.

"Use that mouth for something other than talking."

My hand slams into the back of his head and I push him onto my waiting dick. My cock hates to feel impatient so I lift my hips and force it all the way into this sorry fucks mouth. It's hot in there and he covers his teeth as he sucks - it feels…how does it feel? It feels good, somewhat. Yea, we'll say it feels okay. His hot tongue wraps around my perfectly shaped shaft and he prods at the underside, making me release a pleasurable moan. Right after though, he makes the biggest mistake almost all men make after doing something that feels good. He takes it out of his mouth and fucking speaks.

"Yeah, do you like that?" His face is instantly ugly to me as it's cradled between my impeccably soft thighs. I clench his dirty blond locks of hair between my fingers and yank his head back with force.

"You fucking moron, that's the stupidest fucking question you could ask. Of course I fucking like it - you're sucking my dick. Have you ever had that tiny dick of yours sucked? You DO know what it feels like right?" he gasps in pain as I tug harder, "You're lucky I gave you one fucking moan. Even your dick inside of me didn't make me feel a damn thing. Then right when I feel the smallest bit of pleasure from your shitty fucking cock-sucking skills, you stop? You HAVE had sex before, correct? You understand the simple mechanics of cock-in-mouth, right? Right?"

All I hear are sharp, very unattractive shrills as I rip his useless head away from the artwork which is my dick. The guy puts his head in his hands and sits on the side of the bed as I begin to laugh. I hug my own waist, his pathetic actions are that funny to me.

"Ha! Are you crying? You're crying like some pussy-ass faggot!" I throw a pillow at his cowering head and laugh some more "Get the fuck out of here, you're useless, completely fucking useless to me."

He gets up without looking at me and starts to slide on his ugly silk boxers. That reminds me, I need to pick up some dry-cleaning. I hope they removed all those stains, they never do anything right. No one does anything right, no one is good enough for me. 

My eyes slide back to the mirror as I rest my head on large satin pillows in the pricey room that I didn't even pay for. I lift my slender leg high into the air and frown. Sometimes I think I'm too pale, but really, I'm not. It's just my imagination. My skin tone is healthy, I don't even know why I doubt myself sometimes. I should refrain from frowning though, wouldn't want any wrinkles surrounding my perfectly flushed lips.

"Goodbye then, I'm sorry if - "

"Out" I interrupt his useless speech and point my perfectly manicured finger towards the door "Now".

The sorry excuse for a man leaves the room and I spread my legs across the entire expanse of the bed. My dick is slowly pulsating downward, becoming soft with every pump of blood from my disappointed heart. I need sex. I need to come tonight.

I hurriedly get up and place my royal blue bathrobe around my adorably rounded shoulders. As I pick off some bothersome lint from my sleeve, I open the door to my room.

The room is on the tenth floor, so I go and scope out the large balcony which overlooks the city skyline. There is a small recreation area next to it but everything is empty, so I sigh and ruffle my silky-soft tufts of hair. My eye catches movement just as I'm about to turn back, and I squint at the silhouette of a figure.

A man, about thirty years old, dressed in a suit is smoking a cigarette. He's intriguing because he's tall and has muscle - I can tell just by looking at men, if they have good muscle structure or not that is. This guy does. I like that. I slide the glass door open and close it behind me.

It's fucking freezing out so I tighten my robe over my smooth, hairless chest and approach him.

"Got a smoke?" I ask flirtatiously, but not overtly so. I have to test the waters before going in for a swim.

He turns around. Oh yeah. Just my type. Dark brown hair, green eyes, a haughty smirk on plump lips. Those lips could suck me any day. No. Just today. Just right now. 

His eyes look me up and down as my elbows lean against the railing, my hips sticking out seductively.

"For you I do" he says. 

That's what I thought. 

He gets close to me and has the audacity to place the cigarette between my slightly pursed, perplexingly moisturized lips. As he's doing that, he blatantly checks me out, looking under my robe and probably at my beautifully pert nipples.

"See anything you like?" I whisper cheaply, catching his attention as I notice that glimmer in his eye. He removes the cigarette from my lips and puts it in his own mouth, lights it, and gives it back. I place two fingers between the stick and inhale deeply. The cigarette is of horrible quality and tastes like shit but I don't let him know.

I smirk when I see him unbuckle his pants. He takes his dick out and my eyebrows lift. Now that certainly was fast. His cock is long, but it's one of those weird, not ugly skinny but just uncomfortably not-thick dicks that you roll your eyes at. He's proud of himself though, he probably thinks he's big. I chuckle softly at the thought and take another puff as I incessantly stare.

"Give me some good head and I'll make it worth your while." He actually said that. Those words came from his dirty fucking mouth. I laugh. He's not aware that I don't suck dick, but he will be in a moment.

I grab that girthless rod and squeeze it roughly "I don't give head, but how about I bend over this railing and you fuck me nice and hard?"

He gasps, surprised at my actions, my words, my godly fucking touch. Precum is getting on my index finger and it bothers me, but I don't let it gross me out. He leans in and tries to kiss me, and I immediately turn my head and let go of the stringy cock.

"I don't think you understand, tiger. I don't suck dick, and I certainly don't kiss." I'm tired of playing games so I look to my left and then to my right, making sure no one is around. I press my torso over the ice-cold railing and bend right on over. Lifting my robe I spread my legs for him and arch my back. Come on, look at it. 

"I fuck. Now are you going to fuck me or not?"

"Shit" he moans at the very sight of me. My asshole is the most beautiful thing he's ever fucking seen and he knows it. Hell, I know it. It's perfect, pink, warm and tight as fuck. That last part he doesn't know yet, but he will in a few seconds.

I turn my head and see him lick the palm of his hand with that disgusting about-to-fuck expression on his face. I hate that, it's extremely unattractive and entirely too animalistic for my taste. Licking your palm like some fucking inbred fuck about to penetrate some farm animal. Makes me sick, but I'm not one to complain right now.

"Ah...shit." I bring my cigarette up to my lips and look at the city lights in front of me as he lets himself slide into me. His length makes me moan and he rudely kicks apart my legs, separating my flawless thighs even more. I don't even think he notices the fact that my ass was just used moments ago. It doesn't matter, though, because the groan that comes from his lips makes me smirk approvingly and I know he fucking loves it.

"Man you're nice and tight." Told you. He likes it, who wouldn't, I'm a great lay. I push back into him and he starts to move in and out at a rough, rhythmic pace. One of my hands is desperately clenching on to the railing as the other brings the cigarette up to my lips yet again. My body is rocking back and forth and my dick is hard and wet as it bounces up and down against my robe. That feeling of just letting go bubbles within me and I moan loudly to the nine stories below.

"Fuck, yes. Yes ngh." I can feel it coming. His thrusts are getting harder and harder and he's grunting so loud that I fear someone will hear us. I'm just kidding, I don't fear it, but it is in the back of my mind. The sound of his slippery dick entering my seamlessly narrow cavern makes me shiver with delight and I let go of the railing to grab my own, regretfully ignored cock. 

Oh fuck, I love touching myself. I'm so good at grabbing my own dick that I smile into my next drag. My slender fingers move loosely over my shaft just how I like it and I moan at my own actions as I release a breathy puff of smoke.

He jerks his hips, slamming my body into the metal railing as if he couldn't care less – and he doesn't, why should he? The pain in my abdomen subsides when the tip of his slightly malformed dick squeezes past my insides right where I like it.

"F-fuuck!" I can't help myself, I start pushing back against him, meeting his thrusts. I want a bigger dick, I want a longer fatter cock inside of me but this will have to do so I slam against him, almost making him lose balance. He grabs on to my hips and grunts as loudly as he can, his last forceful slam going off like a sonic boom within my chest cavity.

"AH!" I squeeze my cock so hard as I come that it feels like I lose consciousness for a split second. The cigarette in my left hand is knocked out by the intense thrust and my mouth is open, wordless as I watch the lit stick slip right through my fingers and into the vast backdrop of shimmering city lights.

The insurmountable amount of pleasure I feel is like a drug being shot directly into my veins. I love it. I need it, I crave it several times a day. I feel it coursing through my every nerve and it takes my breath away. Not the wealth of my family, the profitable occupation I've obtained, the immaculate looks I inherited nor the success of my entire fucking life up until now could ever pale in comparison to that one single miraculous moment when I orgasm. It's a powerfully concentrated fire that ignites within me every single time and I simply can't live without it.

My name is Ciel Phantomhive, and I'm a sex addict.  
..


	2. Chapter 2

 

_"I can hear my dick."_

* * *

 

 

It's hot tonight. I'm in my finely tailored suit but I have to take off my jacket because of the disgusting waves of thick warmth that occupy my general area of unfortunate existence. The heat makes me want to cease breathing so I loosen my black silk tie and I'm left only in my crisp white dress shirt and the dark burgundy vest that hugs my thin waist like a painful vice. I undo my silver cufflinks and set them on the large wooden table in front of me. As I slide my sleeves towards my elbows I sigh longingly and cross my legs.

"Master Ciel. Where shall I put this barrel?"

"Over there, the same place all the others go." My thin fingers point carelessly into nothingness as one of my employees berates me with idiotic questions.

"Yes sir. This is the last one, by the way."

"Go home, then. If I stay here any longer the humidity will kill me." My blue eyes close and I lean back in my chair as I watch the twenty-something leave. He's about five years younger than I, has a hard body and thick thighs. His dick, if I remember correctly, is not anything to even bother recalling. I made him fuck me about a year ago, while on the job. He was so nervous and pathetic that it made me sick. Had no skill, acted as if he was in love with me for weeks after. It was so pitiful that I had to threaten him with unemployment before he finally understood. I could never be with only one person.

The large wooden door to my place of employment shuts and I walk up to lock it. My shiny black shoes tap softly as I make my way down to the cellar and I sigh as I descent, because the heat begins to fade into a calming cool breeze.

To describe the earthy smell of several hundred aging barrels of the country's most superior wine is not a simple task. The air is dry and as I breathe in it smells not of wine but of success and money. Power. Complete control over the industry. My parents own the most profitable and most expensive winery in the entire country. We are rich, and we deserve it. We are experts, and we make others look like they are producing bottled piss and selling it for five measly dollars a bottle. Which they are.

I am a Sommelier. Many people have no idea what this is but that is because they are low class and undeserving. My expertise is wine and as I run my shop here in the city, I assist others in making their feeble brains decide what to purchase and why. All of my customers are wealthy and they should be. To try and explain the rich distinct tastes of each premium grape that is used to make our wine to some lowly middle-class scum is simply below me. I will not waste my breath. I attended top Ivy-league schools, I am beyond intelligent and I am an amazing negotiator. I do not speak with those who do not deserve to hear my voice.

My occupation is my life. Well, that and sex. Sex is a very close second, and right now just thinking about it is making my dick stiff. To say that is a downfall is probably accurate, although that is only because it interferes with work and work is everything. That is not to say, though, that I cannot indulge while I'm here.

As I swipe my fingers across my unfortunately damp locks of hair, my other hand stretches forward and lightly taps each setting bottle of wine that rests peacefully within its concave wooden pocket. The pads of my fingertips touch the perfectly rounded shape of the cool glass and I smirk when I get to the last bottle in the row. A 1985 vintage Pinot Noir. The year of my birth, the year the Phantomhive winery originated, the best year of my family's life solely because I came into existence.

I grab the bottle and the soft sound of glass lifting and liquid shifting fills the quiet cellar. This will do just fine. The curve of the mouth of the bottle is somewhat thick and I lick my bottom lip just thinking about it. Gently, I place it on the table as I take interest in more important, more worthy actions. My left hand reaches below my small waist and unbuckles my expensive leather belt. I brush over the hard mound my dick is creating and it makes me go faster. I need to fuck, I need to  _be_  fucked. This scenario is all too familiar and I don't even give a shit. It just must be done.

Once I finish the task of letting my pants fall down to my ankles, I grab the base of my exposed cock and squeeze it hard. I love the way I fuck myself and it's only going to get better. I bend over a small wooden table, slamming the side of my face down on the cool surface. I like to feel pressure, slight pain – force as I'm being fucked so I grind my cheekbone up against the table even harder. My perfectly slender fingers grasp the width of my dick and I squeeze it – fuck it feels good – it feels amazing, it feels euphoric.

My other hand reaches behind my unbelievably round ass and I begin to tease myself. My puckered entrance is tight and hot and I just want to pound into it. I wiggle my finger inside myself and my breath slides over the entire table when I stick it all the way in. I grunt and shut my eyes because I feel that good. Sometimes I just spoil myself.

I clench the tip of my oozing dick and grasp the bottle at the same time. The Pinot Noir makes the most sensual of sounds as it lifts from the table and is positioned behind me. I'm not loose, I'm not lubricated – but fuck I'm horny and I fucking need it. I need this, I have to have it. The smooth rounded edges of the rim feel so good against me that I release one final sigh before I stick it in.

"Ugh" I make a sound for the first time as the corked tip slips through my clenched walls. I jam it in as far as it can go and then slip it out. The neck of the aged bottle is slick and cool and I angle it just right before fucking myself yet again.

My breath is heavy and sweat is beading on my brow and trickling slowly down to my nose as I busy both of my hands. I open my mouth and let out a guttural moan when I slam the tip of the bottle in as far as it can go. My heat has made the bottle warm and it stretches me wide - but not as wide as I would like. I want something thick and hot, something so fucking long that it shifts my organs and makes my mind go completely blank. I want a dick that I've only imagined but never obtained. My sole purpose in life is to find something that could please me as much, but for now...now I have to resort to this.

"Fuck, fuck" My slit is dripping precum onto the cold concrete below and I jack myself off even harder. I think about the intense orgasm I'm about to have and my entire body jerks. I shut my eyes and imagine myself being spread in front of my fantasy of a cock and then I lose it. Faster. I work so fucking fast that the wine is slushing around in the bottle loudly. I can hear my dick. I can hear my fingers sliding over the wet flesh and the sound it makes when my fist jams up my shaft and squeezes past my perfectly molded head. It's happening. It's coming. I stick my ass out and fall to my knees in anticipation. The bottle continues to fuck me as I continue to fuck myself. Everything is happening so fast yet so slow and I moan so loud that all noise is just blocked from my entire perception of sound.

"Ciel Phantomhive!"

Right as I'm about to come I hear it. The sound of someone's voice breaks my protective barrier, it tears through my own personal shell and crumbles all of my defenses. My eyelids burst open and I drop the vintage bottle of wine.

All I can hear is the loud thunk of the glass on the concrete as the distastefully used bottle falls and then rolls softly under a wooden storage rack. My other hand stops moving but my breath is still heavy. The voice coming from behind me - it is familiar.

As I shamefully clench the fabric pooled around my ankles, I get to my feet and pull my slacks up in one swift motion. My dick is half hard and it's leaking profusely. I snarl disgustingly as I tuck it back in my boxers and finally zip myself up. I place the palms of my hands on the wooden table before me and hang my head shamefully like a pathetic dog.

"I apologize, father."

Soft crunching of fine shoes on cold concrete resonates throughout the room and I clear my throat as I hear him approach.

"This is the third time this has happened. If you do not get help for this, son - I will rip your business from under you and remove you from your position in this family. Do you understand?"

His voice is deep and I can tell that he is angry and hurt. I childishly roll my eyes upward and keep them there as I speak to the wine racks in front of me "I understand. I'll seek counseling."

"Good. This is serious, Ciel. This foolishness of yours has to end sometime. You're an adult. Act like one."

And with that he gathered some paperwork that was by the table and turned back around to leave the room. He didn't even look at me. How could he? I would never admit this publicly but sometimes I can't even look at myself.

I come down here often - I do this to myself frequently because I don't want the inane complications of dealing with another human being. I have no emotions for mankind and all I want is my body to be satisfied. Is that so much to ask?

I suppose it is.

* * *

This taxi cab smells like shit. I can't believe I have to resort to using this form of disgusting degrading transportation. I can't have anyone knowing of my embarrassing addiction so my only option is to seek counseling in another city. I did not want my driver to have to know of my whereabouts, and I am far too important to be driving anywhere myself. Although this…is quite despicable in itself. Having to secretly head out for some bullshit therapy that probably won't even work.

The area is middle class and lackluster. Boring buildings among mundane streets within uninteresting landscapes. The air is warm and as the wind flows through my dark locks of silken hair due to the broken window, I snarl in displeasure.

"We are here sir."

I throw a twenty to the man whose face I do not even care to look at. Without saying a word I exit the dirty yellow monstrosity and slam the door shut. Before me is a mediocre office building. It's surrounded by a moderately maintained garden and there are double glass doors in front of me. I sigh because of the heat but especially because of the situation I've put myself in.

I'm wearing dark brown finely pressed slacks, a crisp white dress shirt with hellish long sleeves that are making my skin bleed with sweat, and a thin black wool tie. I straighten the tie and my expensive shoes walk up to the doors and open them.

I keep repeating the suite number…217, 217. Second floor, make a right. I see large elevators straight ahead of me passing an empty marbled hallway and I head right for them. As I walk I'm thinking of what to say. I'm thinking about what to tell them about my sex life, which is making me think of sex, which is making me  _want_  sex. It's troublesome, really. How many dicks have been in me? Thirty? Forty? How many dicks have I sucked? Zero. How many men have sucked me? Sixty, seventy maybe? The whole concept of dick sucking is so grotesque to me by the way. I've never seen a dick and thought 'wow, I really want that in my mouth'. No, I just want it inside of me. I want to fuck it, I don't want to suck it. I have no time for that. What does that do for me? How does sucking off some faggot benefit  _me_? It doesn't. Which is why I have no use for it. I simply –

"Agh! LOOK OUT!"

**_-Crash-_ **

I'm instantly slammed into the hard floor with the loudest thud I've ever heard in my life, my back aching as I'm trying to piece together what's going on. I first notice this…smell. My nostrils are filled with this distinct smell that I can't even accurately describe. It's like fragrant soap, but toned down and earthy. My eyes open as the pain grows and I can feel someone on top of me.

"Excuse me! Oh no, I am so sorry, please forgive me! See I was running down the hall, I was about to miss my app– "

"Get the  _fuck_  off of me you inept moron!" I yell at him before I notice him. I look up, my head flat against the floor and all I see is a long pale neck, an ugly beige short-sleeved dress shirt, and the most hideous green sweater vest that has probably ever come into existence. That neck. It's slender and whoever this guy is, he's looking up and swallowing – I can see his Adam's Apple move up and down as he gasps yet again. His voice is deep, it's low and nervous and it makes me growl in annoyance.

"I'm sorry!" the buffoon slides off of me and I notice his extremely awkward body. It's lanky. He's skinny and tall and he has huge feet, broad shoulders and long arms. He looks towards a wall clock frantically and tries to compose himself. As I still have my back against the floor, I blow hair away from my face and snarl when I see him extend his hand out. His fingers are long and bony. His flesh is white and his nails are short and clean. He instantly pisses me off.

"Watch where you're going!" I get up and scoff at his assistance, "Didn't your parents teach you not to run around in hallways like some moronic retarded child?"

"I'm sorry. I apologize, this is my first day here and I'm late and I – "

"I don't care! I don't care about you or your lack of punctuality. That's not  _my_  problem, got it? Watch your fucking step next time because if I ever see you again I swear I will stick my foot up your ass so hard that you'll taste the expensive leather of my shoes in your ugly fucking mouth."

His eyes widen at my choice of words. It's the first time I notice them, actually. Their hue is almost inhuman, they are a brownish-red, but the red is so overpowering that it's strangely mesmerizing. Like nothing I've ever seen. His face turns into a worrisome expression as his prominent jawline lifts and he brushes his long black bangs behind his ears.

"I…understand. I'm sorry again. I won't trouble you any further." Nervously, he slams the button to the elevator a few feet away and it immediately dings and opens. I glare at him as he walks in, and I subconsciously smirk when I hear him bashing the 'close door' button over and over as if it will even make the slightest difference in the speed of the door closure. Moron.

Once the doors close I sigh and clean myself off. I notice a trail of dust on my white shirt and I grunt loudly. That prick soiled my three hundred dollar shirt. He dirtied my clothes. I'm not sure if anyone understands the severity of this, but my mind cannot function properly when I know that my clothes have been soiled. I roll my eyes and crack my back and then walk towards the elevator in reluctance.

I reach the second floor and by this time, I don't even know what I'm doing here. I want to leave but I know that if I don't go through with this, my father will have it in for me. I reach reception and an ugly beast of a woman greets me.

"Hi sir! Can I help you?" Her voice is squeaky and it penetrates through my ears like an explosion puncturing the barrier of sound itself.

I lift my hand to my temple and wince "Yes, my name is Ciel Phantomhive. I have a three o'clock appointment."

"Oh yes! Welcome! Your doctor is in, please go down the hall, third door to the left." She booms as she cracks both of my sensitive eardrums.

"Thank you."

I seek safety within the hallway and sigh yet again as I walk. I can hear people in the first two rooms and then finally I see my door. All of the other rooms had plaques with the therapists names on them, but this one is bare and I instantly think that the screeching wench outside has given me the wrong number.

I knock on it lightly and I am surprised when I hear a muffled voice saying 'come in'. My hesitant fingers wrap around the thin silver rod of the door and I press it forward. It clicks open and I'm looking down as I enter.

"Um.." is all I hear. A deep voice. An earthy smell. A familiar atmosphere. My eyes roll up, but my head is still down. I see him. The man from before, the man who soiled my clothes and the man who slammed my back down onto the floor.

"Hello…I'm...Sebastian Michaelis. I'll be your therapist."

My head slowly cranes upward and I see him nervously tap the tips of his fingers together. I lick my bottom lip and I narrow my eyes.

"You've got to be joking."

..


	3. Chapter 3

 

_"Big beefy bratwurst cocks."_

 

* * *

I stand here. In this mediocre office. In this...shockingly bland enclosure and inwardly sigh. If the idiot in front of me didn't startle me enough, the wretched decor of the place practically slaps me in the face and takes my wallet. My mouth doesn't move as my eyes absorb the lackluster surroundings. That moronic excuse for a man is sitting behind a large wooden desk. There's a tacky, overstuffed chair directly in front of him and an overwatered plant by the window. That's it. This is all I get. This is where I will be once a week. I have to leave.

"Look, I'm really sorry for running into you, it was an accident." Oh, he speaks again. His voice is so fucking deep that my eyes directly shift into his atmosphere. I look at him and walk towards the chair.

"Just how the hell are you a therapist? You look young, under qualified, inexperienced and not to mention completely lost."

He opens a file in front of him and lifts his index finger to swipe his black bangs behind his ear as he glosses over the text. The hair immediately removes itself from its confines and slowly trickles back down to frame his pale face. His face is...I don't even know how to describe it. It bothers me the more I look at it. His skin is almost as flawless as mine. Almost.

"You're twenty...six, right?" he looks up and throws this half smile at me "We're actually the same age. I hope it doesn't distract you from-"

"Where did you go to school? Can I see your degree? How many years have you been doing this?"

He swallows. I can see his long throat move and it makes me swallow as well like some sort of instantaneous reaction - I have no idea why. I approach him with disdain and sit down on the sorry excuse for a chair. As I await his response I place my right ankle over my left knee and shrug my recently soiled shirt sleeves higher towards my elbow. Before I'm able to complain about how uncomfortable the chair is, he speaks again.

"I attended a state university, but I assure you I'm qualified. My diploma is on the wall, and...I just moved here. I'll be honest with you - this is my first job, and you're my first client. I-"

"Are you serious? Do you even know what you're doing? You read my file, correct?"

He nervously shifts those scarlet eyes of his and clears his throat "Yes, I know of your addiction. I want to help you."

"Pfft" I scoff childishly and actually smile. I never smile, not for a stranger at the least, they don't deserve it. I immediately regret it and straighten my lips "And you think you can help me?"

"I believe so. I'll try my hard-"

"Excuse me..." I rudely interrupt him and our eyes finally lock. My speech is strangely delayed so I look at his hands for a split second before composing myself "before we continue can you do me a favor?"

"Yes?"

"That awful sweater of yours. It's distracting me from my thoughts. It's burning into my soul through the pupils of my eyes. Can you take it off and spare me the torture of having to be in its presence?"

"My...sweater?"

"Yes."

"It's that bad?"

"It is."

"Sorry. I don't usually wear nice clothing so this is all I had."

"Your beige shirt, too. Are you going on a Safari later? Perhaps after our session you'll go out and hunt some elephants for their ivory?" Okay. I smile this time, but it's only because I can't help it. I place my index finger horizontally over my lips to try and hide it as I watch him tug at his own clothes.

"You don't like my shirt either?"

"It's hideous."

"Oh...okay. I guess, I mean all I have on is an undershirt. I don't think that would really be appropriate."

My voice lowers and I shift in my seat "I wouldn't really mind." Yeah, that's right. This is fun for me and I have no idea why. The mere look of this man changes my entire composure and I can feel my comfort level increasing with every second that passes. He's so easy to manipulate it's so pathetic. I feel like I'm toying with a child. Suddenly, he stands up.

He's so damn...tall. Definitely not a child. My blue eyes roll upwards as I watch his slender frame straighten. His arms awkwardly cross over his torso and he grabs onto the hem of the horrible polyester-blend sweater with his long fingers. He slides it past his thin waist and lifts it off of his frame. His shoulders are so broad that the vest gets stuck as he brings it above his head. I roll my eyes.

"Come on, doc. This isn't a strip-tease."

He fidgets nervously and hurries his motions. As he does so, that boringly beige dress shirt lifts high enough for me to see his flat stomach. His skin is milky white and it looks flawless. It rides higher. My eyes lock onto the man and I see his naval for a fraction of a second. I don't know why but I instantly look away. Fuck. What is wrong with me? This guy is an unfashionable uneducated nerd. Well, he's educated but not enough for my tastes. Wait, what I meant was for my taste in humans in general. Not in men. I would never in a million years think to -

"Can I leave my shirt on? This is...kind of embarrassing..."

"It's not like you're not wearing an undershirt. Just take it off" I demand. Yeah, I demanded that and he better obey me. I lick my own lips as my ego inflates to incomprehensible proportions.

Instead of awkwardly unbuttoning his shirt, he wisely decides to just peel it from his body. This time, I notice his beltless slacks. How uncouth. As he shifts his body I also receive a peek of hip bone. I clear my throat when he carelessly throws the garment to the side and sits back down.

"Better? How are your eyes?"

Oh. A joke. How cute. Not cute, I mean...interesting. I see him in his thin white undershirt and I narrow my eyes "My eyes are just fine, thank you."

"Perfect."

A strange feeling washes over me and I want nothing more than to talk about sex. I want to talk about sex, and then I want to leave this place and have some sex. Lots of sex. Sex. Sex. Sex. I instantly feel like being fucked so I anxiously look at my watch.

"Are you all right?" His low voice pierces my thoughts and I look at him once again.

"Yes, why?"

"Oh, no, nothing. It's just that your face looks a bit flustered. Is the temperature okay for the room?"

How dare he.

"It's fine" I snap. "Can we just get this over with?"

'Looks a bit flustered' he says, yeah, fuck you. This moronic excuse for a therapist. This can't last long, I won't let it.

"Ciel?" My name slips through his throat and past his lips. My eyes instantly shift and submit to the low tone of his unobtrusive voice.

"What's your name again?" I remove my ankle from my knee and lazily spread my thighs as I sink into the atrociously tacky chair.

"Michaelis. Sebastian Michaelis."

"Michaelis. Are you German? You must be with a name like that. Coupled with your first it's almost a little  _too_  German if you know what I mean."

"Too...German?"

"Your skin is very white and your hair is pitch black. It's very becoming of someone so...lanky, wouldn't you agree?" My hands slide down to my lap and I lace my fingers together as I let the compliment slip from my lips. Well, the partial compliment. Okay, it was a veiled insult, sue me.

"Does the way I look bother you?"

"You know, Michaelis, the Germans make piss poor wine. Sugary sweet, low quality. Terrible, really."

"...wine?"

"Yes, wine. Did it not say in my file? I work as an owner of a winery, and I'm also a Sommelier. Although, you probably don't know what that-"

"I know what a Sommelier is. Those men who look like waiters and talk about wine when you go to tastings."

The bastard. How dare he degrade my high-class occupation. I lick my bottom lip and speak through my teeth.

"It's more than that. Don't condescend me.  _German_."

His lips curl into an actual smile and he lets out a single low laugh. I notice his white teeth for a split second and catch the slight dimple on his cheek. It makes me uneasy because I feel laughter building within me, but I control it.

"Do you have something against Germans?" He keeps his smile and stares right into me. Right at me...his fucking eyes are looking at me fuck, I can't think straight. I scoff at his accusation and carelessly wave my right wrist into the air as I speak.

"Of course not. I love Germans. I've fucked practically half of Berlin." Why did I just say that? This isn't who I am. Before I can battle with my own internal emotions I notice the strangest thing. He coughs somewhat nervously and slides his eyes to the side. If I didn't know any better I would say that he was trying hard not to blush...but failing profusely at it. Now this is interesting.

"You know, most of the German men I've fucked had huge dicks. Big beefy bratwurst cocks. They were all into some kinky shit, too." I lie. I have no idea what the men I sleep with are into, or where they're from, nor do I care to remember - they don't deserve it. And for the record I've never pined over a certain cock in my entire life. Everyone is the same. Average or below average. I'm still searching for my dream cock - or rather, I've come to the awfully depressing conclusion that it simply does not exist. Oh wait. He's shifting.

Like a cowardly child, the man averts his gaze and quietly coughs into his fist. The amount of pink on the tips of his ears increases as my smile widens.

"Is there a problem, German? Did they not tell you I was into men?"

"Uh...no...that's not it."

"What is it, do you feel weird around people my type?" I hate using the word 'gay'. It doesn't suit me in the slightest. It's too happy, too simplistic, too...fucking peppy for my existence.

"No, actually. Before we start I need to tell you something about myself."

Oh, my. Now I'm  _very_  intrigued.

"And what would that be?"

"Well, I told you that this is my first job. I just graduated, but...the thing is, I took the place of another therapist who suddenly quit. They needed someone badly so they hired me..."

I cross my legs and sigh as I rest my chin on the palm of my hand "Yes, and?"

"Well, I want to help you with your problem, Ciel. I really do. You're my first client and I can't mess this up."

A single eyebrow lifts as I become even more curious. He picks up a pen with those long fingers and starts tapping it on the desk.

"You're...addicted to sex, correct?"

My head tilts and I smile slightly as I answer. I've smiled way too often in this entire session but I couldn't care less "That's correct."

"The thing is...I mean I felt you should know...and it won't hinder my ability, either. But...I've never engaged in...sexual intercourse."

I choke on my own spit and cough into my arm "WHAT?"

"It won't make a difference, I'll still help you! Please, Ciel. Believe me. I know I can do this."

"You're a virgin! How the hell do you live twenty-six years looking like that and not get any pussy?" Shit. Wait. My brain is speaking for itself as it betrays my demands. I quickly stand up out of sheer disbelief.

"My whole life has been dedicated to school, to studying! I never had time for relationships. I didn't want the distraction! And what do you mean by 'looking like that', you just made me remove my clothing because of how hideous I was dressed. I don't care about things like that, I just care about my work."

"I'm out of here, this is ridiculous. How are you supposed to help me, you don't even know what a vagina looks like in person." I glare at him, remarkably un-phased by the stupidity of my own statement.

"Why does that even matter? You're not even into...that."

"You can't even talk about sex without having that stupid innocent look on your face! You blush and cough and avoid my eyes it's pathetic! Why don't YOU tell ME what I'm into? I want you to say it." I place my palms flat on his desk and lean in. I narrow my eyes and await a response "WELL? How do you expect to help me if you can't even talk about it?"

He looks right at me. Our bodies are about three feet apart and he lifts his chin and swallows "You like having sex with men."

"Wrong. I'm  _obsessed_  with having sex with men."

"Obsessed…right. Sorry."

"And how do I have sex with men?"

"W-what?"

" _How_  do I fuck them, huh? You must know, right? You're the expert here?"

"Oh. Well. You take your...penis and put it in-"

"I'm fucking out of here!" I shake my head and turn my back to him. Asshole. Fucking virgin. Waste of time. My feet hurry along the drab carpet and I hear rustling behind me. I walk faster.

As if I were an inferior animal being hunted by a fierce lion, the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. A chill runs down my spine and I am sprinting towards the door. At least I think I'm sprinting. When did this office get so big?

I reach the door and my palm shoots for the knob. I grasp the metal and turn it. The door opens about three inches and is immediately slammed shut once again. I blink. Admittedly, I flinch.

"Wait." His large hand is right by my face against the wooden door and I suddenly feel something hot on my shoulder. His other hand. He roughly turns me around, jerking my entire body and my back is now against the door. I'm not sure he knows his own strength, or perhaps he doesn't touch people often because his fingers are practically digging into my skin. I stand there speechless and swallow. His body is looming over mine and he hangs his head down in embarrassment. I can smell him again. Not just like cologne but like sweat and flesh, pure testosterone. I inhale his masculine aura like I was taking my last breath - it's that alluring. Who would have thought he could turn into a man such as this.

"Please don't go. I didn't mean to offend you. I want to help you - I really really want to help you." His voice is soft and deep and laced with desperation.

He is most definitely  _not_  helping me right now.

"You beast. Get your hands off of me." Ah, my brain is listening for once. I feel like it has been absent this entire time and appreciate its sudden appearance. His fingers slide off of my shoulder but his arm is still outstretched and leaning against the door.

"I apologize" He looks at me and sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. I can almost see through his thin white shirt. It's mere inches from my face so I back up. Another point for my brain.

"Just give me a fresh start next week - please? We'll start our sessions, I'll wear normal clothes. I won't be so...unorganized. Just one chance." His voice is deep and I can almost feel his breath on me. I'm feeling...disgusting. Disgusted. I feel like I just ran a marathon and my stomach is in a knot. It's disgraceful so I clear my throat and calm myself.

"Fine. Next week. I will only come once more. Why don't you try getting laid by then?"

The tall, sorry excuse for a man laughs nervously and his scarlet eyes roll up to meet mine "Thank you, Ciel."

"Think nothing of it, German." I lift my chin. The pet name tastes good in my mouth so I smirk as I open the door.

"And by the way, for the record...I don't stick my 'penis' into anything, got it? I like getting pounded into. You might want to jot that down in your little file."

His eyebrows lift and he shakes his head up and down like a humble fool "Okay...I'll do that."

"Good" He's right behind me when I turn around to face the door, and as I take a step closer he mimics my movements. His naivety pisses me off. Does he even know what he's getting himself into? I stop dead in my tracks to test his stupidity and it works.

But it backfires.

As I stop, he crashes into me, his large torso slams into my back. His hips push into my firm ass, and one of his hands accidentally stumbles onto my waist to balance his clumsiness.

"Ah, I'm sorry...I was seeing you out. Excuse me." He backs away innocently and removes his entire self from my frozen body. I'm still facing away from him and just by hearing his voice I can tell he's blushing like a schoolgirl.

Luckily, he doesn't see my own face. Because he would probably share the same sick sentiments that I am currently harboring.

I don't even hear his goodbye as I slowly walk out into the hallway. I don't notice the absence of his presence or the closing of the door. All I can feel is that burning heat along my backside. That mound of flesh that carelessly nudged into me. That seemingly thick bulge that slumped awkwardly down the side of his inner thigh. That is all I can feel. That and this disgusting feeling of losing myself, my composure, my absolute discretion.

I can feel the tightening in my pants but I refuse to look down.

I need to fuck. I need to be filled and stretched and made a complete mess of - and I want it now. Right now.

I turn back around and head for his office once again.

..

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

" _Oh woe, woe is my greedy fucking hole."_  


 

 

* * *

My mind is currently overflowing with impure contemplations. My consciousness is bombarded with the sharp pangs of desire like a thick fog obscuring every sane thought that tries to claw its way into my brain. The air feels dry and my tongue feels desperate. For what, I am not sure – since that muscle never plays a part in any of my encounters whatsoever.

I swallow when I finally arrive at my therapist's office. What exactly am I doing here? Why do I feel compelled to knock on the door - to open it and to completely ruin the man who waits on the other side? I'm not one to usually succumb to these irrational decisions so easily. Yes I engage in spontaneous sex, but with suitable men - certainly not a man of this caliber. It's not that he is out of my league but simply that we are not even playing the same game. I never go out of my way to seduce someone. I'll glance and use body language, yes, but I have not once wanted to fuck someone so bad that I make a chore of it. He should not even be given the gift of consideration on my part. I wouldn't call myself a philanthropist, but I also feel like I should save him from the stain of losing his virginity to someone like me. Fuck, maybe I do have a small morsel of morality left within me. I should be a martyr. In all honesty, I should be worshiped.

My delicate fingers twiddle over the doorknob and I shake my head at my hesitant actions. I am not weak. I know what I want and I never falter. I don't want this, though. What, a virgin – really? Completely disgusting. But, on the other hand …the thought of his veiled strength, his inexperienced, jerky motions – his quivering hips crashing against the hot flesh of my backside is regrettably, completely maddening. I don't partake in corruption, yet a tiny part of me wants to turn him into a writhing mess on the floor of his own office. I wonder how big that thing can get. Ugh, why do I do this to myself.

I don't even find him particularly attractive. Well, that may be a lie. I mean, he is handsome, there is no denying that. Women must flock to him, how has he protected his innocence for so long? It must be his brain, it doesn't synch well with his looks. He's not supposed to be that...tantalizing. When it comes down to it though, his personality is still below my tastes. Taste. I wonder what he tastes like? I lick my lips at the thought and release a sharp breath of sudden realization.

Wait.

No. No, no, no. What the  _fuck_  has gotten into me? Why in the vast outstretches of the universe am I pondering what that sorry excuse for a man tastes like? Very rarely do I disgust myself. No, wait - I never disgust myself. Good thing it passes quickly. I ignore the insane notion that so easily crossed my temporarily feeble mind and turn away from the door.

I need to find someone else to fuck me. I need to go home – away from this lowly town and as far from this obtrusive, unwanted feeling of foreign emotions as physically possible. I want to get out of my head. I need to be beside myself, at a distance, merely a spectator. I need an escape.

I need to be plowed into.

Why - why is this so difficult right now? Come on I'm right here somebody fuck me! Oh woe, woe is my greedy fucking hole.

Silently, I clear my throat as well as my dramatics and begin walking away from the temptation of the door. A few feet ahead of me I hear the click of a knob and see a man exiting one of the other therapist's offices. Have my hysterical pleas been answered?

He's not that much taller than I, yet he is slightly more built. I could still take him in a fight most likely, although fighting is not necessarily the instantaneous reaction that I get from looking at him. He has blond hair, not long but long enough to be lazily swept back into a purposely-slumped ponytail. His clothing is of impeccable taste and when he hears me approach, he turns around. Like a stupefied deer trapped in the bright glow of headlights, the immense rays of sex that emanate from my body slap him in the face and pique his seedy, homosexual desires. I lift my chin and lower my eyelids, checking him out as I confidently saunter my way down the hall. He has a slight baby-face yet his jaw is prominent and his gaze is embarrassingly apparent.

His eyes are large and blue, his face housing a smirk when he realizes just how fuckable I truly am. Works every time. Sometimes I think it's  _too_  easy.

Those azure orbs follow me and just as I pass him, I glance over my shoulder knowingly and turn around. We circle around one another like two starved alley cats, our bodies stalking slowly but our eyes locking into place.

He lifts a single brow and smiles widely. There's an aristocratic air about him and I can't really put my finger on it.

"Why hello there, little one."

Did I say air? Because I meant airs. His snarky purr of a greeting angers me, but I'm done with this faux dance of seduction. I'm not one for flirting and I couldn't care less for foreplay. All I want is to be fucked here – it's not fucking rocket science, we're not splitting atoms or fucking putting men on the moon, we're talking about sex. Rough sex, preferably. Yeah, I want it rough today for some reason.

He frowns playfully when he notices my slight snarl. When his index finger slides from the bottom of my neck to the tip of my chin, he speaks again.

"And just what do you need therapy for –  _temptation_ , perhaps?"

I slap his hand out of the way and push him against the wall with as much force possible. The loud thud of his well-dressed back crashing into the hard surface pleases me and I snort condescendingly. Unlike the man who had me pinned against the door moments ago, I can't pick up a smell on him. I try, yet I sense nothing. Not even cologne, not soap, not a single thrilling scent. I don't let my face get too close as I speak – I don't want him getting the wrong idea.

"You're close. Sex addiction."

"Well, they are one in the same, right love?"

I intertwine our thighs and buck into his body, ignoring his excruciatingly gay epithet. I rock my hips up and grunt when I can finally feel the hardening mass of his cock against my own.

"Are we going to fuck or what?" My voice is professionally sultry as I reel him in.

"Ugh, I…don't think I have…much of a choice with the way you're…moving.  _Ah_."

He blushes and I audibly scoff at his girlish pretenses "No need to turn into a blushing little bitch. All I want is your dick in me. Can you get it up for me or what?"

My cock thrusts into his and I can feel the assault of lust attacking my entire body.

"Are insults your main method of seduction? Because I'm not sure that's very lucrative in this respect. It just doesn't… _rrghh_ …work."

I clench my jaw in anger and speak through my teeth "Why don't you work your dick into my tight fucking ass then, faggot."

The blond little bitch grabs my jaw and lifts my face to meet his. Looks like he's going to have to learn his lesson fairly quickly. Not that I mind, but it is rather troublesome.

"You have quite a mouth on you, don't you?" he purrs into my alluringly red lips.

My knee rides up higher between his legs and I press onto his small, useless testicles as hard as I can. I feel him retract and hear a sting of a hiss slip through his teeth.

"Let go of my fucking face. If you even try to kiss me with your whorish lips I'll rip your balls clean off and shove them down your dirty throat. Understood, princess?"

"O-okay, okay. You win." he clears his throat, and some of his dignity "I see you do this often?"

"Is that a problem? Your loss if you miss out on the best fuck you've ever had in your life."

He shifts his hips and runs his hand through his golden locks of hair. After he flashes a quick smile, he eyes me up and down "There's not a problem at all."

"That's what I thought." Our bodies separate and I rub my palm over my slight erection "Hurry up, I don't have all fucking day here."

"Third floor – the roof." He brushes off each of his sleeves and tugs the bottom of his dress shirt as he leads the way. He has composure, I'll give him that.

We don't speak a word as we wait for the elevator. An eternity passes before the light dings, and we both calmly enter the cab. When the door closes, he attacks me. Now, I don't blame him. I mean this IS me we're talking about here. I know I'm that irresistible, I know I taste like sweet forbidden fruit, and I sure as hell know that it's easy to succumb to my otherworldly body - but still, this man's touch is a little too experienced for my taste. Not that I would want someone inexperienced, no I mean of course not, that's ridiculous...it just gets boring sometimes - the whole knowing-every-move thing. Oh, why can't my sex life be more exciting? Elevator sex again? Contrary to popular belief having sex in an elevator is just not as amazing as it seems. It's cramped and stuffy and plain fucking annoying. Oh damn, I almost forgot - this guy is about to fuck me.

His hands begin unbuckling my belt as his mouth latches onto my left nipple, lightly biting it through my shirt. I curl my lip when I can feel his teeth drag across my sensitive skin. His face trails up and he tries to nibble on my collar bone before I push him back.

"Don't even think of going a centimeter higher. No mouth above my neck, got it?"

He pushes the stop button to the elevator and then falls to his knees. Typical. The jolt of the cab makes me use his shoulders for balance and I roll my blue eyes as I sigh. He looks up at me and licks his lips "How about my mouth here, or is this against your little set of rules?"

He unzips me, shuffles my clothing down and starts to kiss the area above the base of my dick. What is with the kissing? Why? Fuck it bothers me but I can't really complain right now. His lips finally hover over my freshly exposed cock. I'm really hard for some reason.

"Open your mouth and find out."

And man does he open that mouth. Practically deep-throating me on the first try he swallows my dick like he does this for a living. The back of my head slams into the wall and I stare at the shitty halogen lights of the ceiling as he works me well.

"Wow, you're pretty big, aren't you?" His pink tongue slobbers all over my tip and he takes me in once again. I don't need compliments. I already know how amazing my dick is, you don't have to tell me.

I can feel the pressure, the suction of his throat as his hot mouth slides over my stiffened flesh. Not the best blow job I've had, but certainly not the worst. His tongue drags across the underside of my cock and I take his head in my hands and begin to move my hips back and forth. The tips of my fingers dig into his hair and I let out a small grunt when my pace quickens.

Collecting a bit of dripping precum and saliva, his hand slides beneath my dick and he feels his way between my thighs and to my ass. I spread my legs and pound into him even more, because I know what's coming.

"Mmfuck" I moan when he sticks his finger inside of me. I can tell that this guy is or once was a bottom. His gentle preparations are not needed on me.

"Come on you fuck, stick some more in me." I demand as I roll my hips into his face. The base of my cock meets his lips, his cheek crushes into my groin I'm fucking him that hard.

Suddenly he removes his fingers and then his mouth and the little shit actually stands up. His hand shoots for the stop button and the elevator begins to move once again. Not knowing what is on this third floor, I grunt angrily and tuck my saliva-soaked cock back into my pants. Disgusting.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I angrily speak through my teeth.

"There were voices, we have more privacy on the roof. Don't worry I still want that dick of yours."

The doors open and the heat of the day greets us like the bowels of hell itself. The sun is bright and I groan because of it. Daytime outdoor sex. Again. My most hated environment. There is nothing up here but some maintenance equipment and some storage sheds. Completely empty. Just like my emotions, just as I like it.

"I'm Dominic by the way, what's your name?" He leads us to the ledge of the building. It's waist-high and overlooks the second-floor balcony. I peer over the edge and notice a few tables and chairs and some benches. A large ashtray and some vending machines are also scattered around the recreational area. No one seems to be around, thankfully.

"My name is not important and neither is yours. Can we get on with this?" As I'm bent over the concrete ledge I feel his hands run the entire length of my back before his chest presses into me.

"You know I was thinking, your dick is pretty amazing" he whispers hotly in my ear and releases my sticky cock from the confines of my clothing "how about  _you_  fuck  _me_?"

I knew it. I fucking knew it. This guy likes dick up his ass probably more than I do. I should have known. My elbows casually rest on the cool ledge and I sigh.

"Take my god-damned pants off and fuck me. It's simple. I don't have all day. I wouldn't fuck you if my life depended on it." I hear him scoff but hey obeys, just like the rest of them, and slides my pants down to my knees. I don't even want to know what his dick looks like. I don't care.

As he's fiddling with his zipper or his buttons or whatever the fuck he's doing back there, I rest my chin on my perfectly folded arms and sigh into the warm summer air. My eyes dart downward towards the balcony when I see a long shadow come into view. I squint when I notice a pale arm and then my eyes widen in surprise.

It's the German.

"Ugh,  _fuck_!" I scream and then immediately cover my mouth with both hands when the fool behind me sticks his dick in without warning. It fills me and I swallow him from tip to base.

"Sh-it...you feel  _amazing."_  Tell me something I don't know. He squeezes out of me slightly and then continues to move forward, but all of my concentration has shifted to my illustrious therapist down below.

As if I could forget those long pale arms. He sits down on the concrete unceremoniously with his feet flat on the ground as he rests his back on a bench. Why would you sit on the floor? He's so strange. He is still only in his black pants and white undershirt, with a teasing peek of his lower back as he bends forward to rest his forearms on his knees. It may be the distance, but he looks entirely too attractive and it feels like it's making my dick even harder. And it is.

"Mmm, do you want it deeper?" He's slamming into me now and I remove my hands from my mouth and hold on to the ledge.

"Shut the fuck up there are people down there. And yes, of course - asshole." I whisper a scream.

"Oh?" He rocks his cock into me slowly and bends over my back, wanting to see my current object of interest.

"Oh wow. He's quite the h-hot one, isn't he? I've never...ugh...seen him around h-here before."

"That's my therapist."

"What?" He stops as he is fully immersed and puts more weight on my back so he can check out the man below. I elbow him and clench my walls around his bland dick before yelling at him as quietly as possible.

"Can you fuck me and stop being distracted?" He moans at my actions and slowly starts pumping his dick in and out. He grasps my hips and unexpectedly squeezes my ass. My eyes are fixated on the German and I watch him like a vulture about to feast. A vulture who's being ruthlessly fucked. He's doing something. Reaching into his pocket? A rare smile spreads across my otherwise emotionless face. Not as a reaction to the incessant pounding, but because this man has truly caught me off guard.

The therapist digs into his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. My, my...what a dirty habit. How unfitting for someone in the medical field. I lick my lips when he cups the tip of the cigarette and lights it with one quick flick. Fuck, his throat, I can see it moving. When he exhales and looks down, his black bangs unravel from the back of his ear and fall around his chiseled jaw. The sun is shining onto his handsome face like a holy light of sorts and the slight wind catches his fallen locks of hair and swishes them around gracefully. I grab my cock and start pumping. I'm silent save a few gasps, and my mouth falls open because I can feel that overpowering pleasure begin to well within me.

"Ah. Ahh... ohh, he...smokes? Mmm, what a bad-boy, fuck. I think...I might seduce h-him. He looks like a g-ood...lay."

"Don't. Even think. About it, slut." My breath hitches when I feel a weak arm against my throat. I am lifted up and my shoulders meet his chest as my body straightens. The sudden change in position makes me feel his cock swell around my walls and I moan.

"And why not?" he places his lips dangerously close to my ear and whispers as he tightens his arm around my neck "are you fucking him already?"

I am still locked on to the man below as one of my arms grabs this asshole's slight choke-hold. My fingernails dig into his skin as he fucks me senseless and I shake my head while my other hand grabs my bobbing cock, a lewd display if the German were to glance up. My fist slides up and down the flesh of my thick shaft and I finally answer this faggot.

"No. He's a virgin." Fuck. FUCK. Why did I just...no. How could I do such a thing? I laugh to cover my tracks and he seems to be so lost in the magic that is my asshole that he doesn't reply. I don't even think he heard me. I fake a moan to get this over with. His breath is hot in my ear as he bends his back and circles his hips into me with as much force as his lowly body can provide. I'm starting to feel good and as I fist myself I watch as my therapist gets up from the ground. His body is so large. I wonder what he looks like without clothes, how his muscles flex when he fucks, the noises he makes and how those lips of his feel. I mean, no, I-

"Ohh yeahhh FUCK! Mmpphh!" Fucking moron moans rudely into my ear and I jerk my head to the side in annoyance. Idiot interrupting my sexy thoughts. He's lucky he's in me right now or I'd kick his ass.

"So...ahh...mmmm...what's your boyfriend's name?"

"Huh?" My slit is leaking now, dribbling precum all over my fingers and palm. My well-lubricated hand slides so easily now and I jolt when finally, an eternity later, that one specific spot is slammed into by his dick and I simultaneously jerk into my tight fist.

"His, mmpff...name. What's his...name?"

"Agh.  _Shit_." I'm starting to lose it. The sweltering heat of our bodies is making me groan into the equally hot air that envelops us. I'm starting to feel that sensation, that drug is about to flow through my system and I moan my next words as my eyes close as tight as I can bear.

"S-ebastian. Sebastian... _fuck."_ The name releases itself from the confines of my throat for the first time and I knock my head back into the blond's chest as I squeeze the life out of my dick, shifting it gratuitously from side to side and coming as hard as I can. I feel the hot rush of cum being shot into me and I wince slightly as his dick locks up into my spent cavity. He leaves it there as we both pant like wild animals at the exhilaration of pure satisfaction.

"Holy fuck" I would normally think that he was talking about my godly body, a mere compliment to how amazing I am in bed - or on roof in this case...but the way he says it startles me and my eyes snap open.

I almost choke at what I see. The German is there. He takes a final drag of his cigarette and then throws it to the side like some self-proclaimed badass.

His eyes are completely locked on to mine.

It is as if all sound were suddenly muffled, my vision instantly blurred and my speech rendered completely useless all at the same time. I scramble, my composure lost and my heart racing more quickly than ever before. I elbow the idiot behind me and he releases his hold around my neck as he simultaneously slides out of me. My sole wish is to just leave this place. I want to disappear.

Our eyes remain trapped and I swallow nervously. I never get nervous. My dick is exposed, and I just realize that I'm still holding it. I'm  _still_  holding my dick as my therapist is watching me. His face is…his face is…angry? I would expect a mirrored image from a virgin such as he, from someone who oozes innocence as he so expertly chooses to do so. But no, his eyebrows crinkle into this tight scowl. His piercing red eyes narrow and a look of disgust wraps around the corners of his perfect lips which trace his enraged, slightly flushed face - also perfect.

He thinks what just happened is morbid, grotesque. He probably thinks it's immoral and wrong, and it is. I mean, I'm having sex with someone I met mere minutes ago on the roof an office building that is meant to curb the act that I just solicited in. I  _am_ immoral, I  _am_ disgusting. There  _is_  something wrong with me, isn't there? I mean, people don't do this on a day-to-day basis.

My incessant wheel of thoughts is turning faster and faster until I'm interrupted yet again by this unnamed guy, this fucking…this - who knows what he is. I mean who is he? And why am I starting to freak out about it for the first time in my entire life?

"Fuck. Put your clothes on, idiot! Shit. Are you sure you're not involved with him?" I hear the frantic man behind me and I realize that I haven't been paying attention to my current surroundings. What have I even been staring at? Maybe my general feeling of malaise and indignity because I don't remember looking at that balcony down below and seeing my therapist leave. I quickly pick up my pants and push them past my cock and onto my waist as I question the male.

"Wait, what? Why? No, I just met him today…"

"WHY? Because he just fucking climbed onto the fire escape and is coming after us!"

"W-what?" I stutter, I fumble and I slip. My mind tries to rearrange every word in his sentence until my body jerks around and I peer over the edge of the building.

I see tight muscles clenching, biceps straining as this guy, this therapist – Sebastian - moves like a snake up the railing. He's climbing up the tiny ladder in some psychotic anger-fueled rage, I can actually hear him grunting. Two pale hands grasp the ledge of concrete and the two of us take a step back in complete shock.

He pulls himself up like he's an expert in climbing fucking buildings, so easily and so gracefully. His large shoes slam against the top of the roof and he turns to look at the both of us.

My heart is racing, my pants are undone. My throat is dry and I flinch when he extends his arm and points.

His voice is deep and angry and I can't help but think how completely, unimaginably, undeniably sexy he looks right now. I lick my lips as he moves his.

" ** _You_**." He rasps and points not at me, no, but at the frightened man behind me.

I suddenly fear for the blond's life.

..


	5. Chapter 5

 

"… _my testicles finally dropped…"_

* * *

 

The three of us have now backed away from the ledge - us two ripely-fucked men slowly moving backwards as if herded by the German, now mere feet from the elevator. The sun is bright and shines tortuously so onto every inch of our surroundings. I shield my eyes from the hellish ball of gas and squint before the man barks an albeit innocent, yet excruciatingly asinine question.

"Excuse me! Just what do you think you're doing to my patient?"

My eyebrows crinkle and I almost laugh at the complete ignorance of the man who has so easily lost his temper. Before I can say a word, he practically lunges at my temporary suitor and crashes him into the door of the elevator. It's barbaric and rough and I have to admit, it makes my spent dick twitch just a bit.

"H-hold on! OUCH! I wasn't doing anything to him, we were fucking!" The blonde screams and then grabs on to the broad shoulders of my untamed therapist. Their faces are a few inches apart and I feel the need to suddenly interrupt.

"Domino or whatever your name is..." I calmly walk up to the two and slide my arm around the German's shoulders. I can feel the heat of his skin and I can smell his intoxicating scent so I take a perverse breath before I speak "don't lie to him, you were trying to blackmail me - with sex."

"You were  _what?"_  My therapist pushes the blonde even harder and I can feel the toned muscles in his body tense as he growls through his teeth. Maybe it's the heat, perhaps the over-exertion of my body, but in all honesty - this is turning me on like you wouldn't believe.

"That is a LIE and you know it!" the blonde looks at me with a hateful scowl "He came on to ME! Look at him he's a whore for christ's sake!"

"A whore?" I let out a calm laugh as I continue to hold the beast back. Blood swells within my cock whenever I hear him grunt, and I quell the sensation as best as I can to insult the sorry excuse for a man "A whore is trash. Someone who sells their body to anyone at any time - probably on par with your mother."

"WHAT?"

I hear the most offended gasp come out of him and I laugh once again before my therapist barks out another testimony.

"I saw you choking him! You don't do that when you...when you...make...love!" His black bangs trickle onto his cheeks and I see them turn a slight shade of pink. This is just too much. I can't believe what my ears just now processed. I want to soil that purity of his so fucking bad and he's tempting me to this unfathomable extent that it makes me want to explode.

I slide my body between the two, my back facing the disgruntled blonde and both of my hands flat against the German's chest. The pads of my fingertips press against his thin white undershirt and I lick my lips due to our close proximity "Obviously this trash has no knowledge on the subject of love. He just wanted a quick fix and used force to get it. It's pathetic, really. Let's just leave him to his own little low-life devices, okay?"

Am I blatantly lying? Yes. I never usually deny my affairs, but I somehow feel the need to defend myself from any current judgments on the matter. He knows I'm addicted to sex, but I don't want him thinking that I'm easy - because I'm not. The way I choose my partner does little to impede on my sexual fortitude. Through the eyes of a virgin, though, the whole process is probably quite shocking. Plus, there's just something about him that makes me want to protect the sanctity of my swollen pride - most likely due to my current decision to completely rip his innocence from under him.

..

I smile genuinely because our lips are only about a foot away from one another. My blue eyes stare deep into those orbs of his and I notice more of his fine features. His eyelashes are long and his eyebrows are seemingly perfect arches that express every shift in emotion. His mouth. It's red, flushed with blood that has been pumping wildly from the rapidly beating heart that I can feel below the sensitive palms of my hand. His lips curl beautifully at the ends, up into his pale cheeks and when they open to speak I can see his pink tongue flickering within the hot chamber of his mouth. I can't stop staring at that mouth. I want to taste it. I want to know what it feels like to have our lips attached, slowly moving our tongues together and entangling them over and over until our breath is no more. I want our saliva to mix, our hot muscles to explore every nook of each other's mouth and have our minds get lost in the exchange of the flavor of one another's pure essence. I want to melt into this man and have him take me as rough as I know he can get.

"Ciel!" The sound of my name tears me from my thoughts and I blink. That's my sole reaction before I am violently thrown onto the harsh concrete of the ground by said man whom I so easily just confessed my desires for. I slam into it, tiny pieces of gravel scraping against my flawless face. I grunt and shift my body, facing the two when I see the blond wailing on my therapist - the blows more than likely meant for myself. My first thought isn't even to help. It's as if every punch to the German's face was in slow motion and all I could think of was 'what kind of therapy is that guy here for? Anger management? Complete psychosis?'

I get up on my knees and brush the side of my face off with the sleeve of my arm. When I look down it is not only covered in excess amounts of dirt, but there are small splotches of blood speckled around it as well. This angers me. My face is my commodity, I need it to look perfect and I need it to make money. And now it's flawed, although I am not sure to what extent but it's imperfect nonetheless. My eyes lock onto the two - about six feet away, my therapist now being brought to the floor as he keeps taking punches to the face. Why isn't he fighting back?

I stealthily get to my feet and dust myself off. I brush my silken hair behind my ears and then take a deep breath when I reach the two.

"Get the FUCK" I swing my leg all the way back and then deliver a harsh kick to the blonde's abdomen "off of him". The fine Italian leather of my shoe digs so deep into his ribs that he rolls about ten feet away, grasping his torso and yowling like the pussy little queen that he is.

"Oooowwwwfuuuuck!" I can hear him wailing as I kneel down over my therapist.

His chest is heaving up and down with lips parted and breath heavy. The corner of his mouth is bleeding, and he has an enormous splotch on the side of his left eye that will soon form into a very unsightly bruise. I gently poke it with my index finger and softly laugh when he winces.

"That hurts." His deep voice sounds pained and I shake my head as I grab him from under his arms and lift him to his feet. His body is heavy and my smaller shoulders jolt back when he uses them for support.

"You coward, why didn't you fight back?"

Once he balances himself he takes the bottom of his white shirt and lifts it to wipe his face. This is almost like porno to me, or what I assume porno is like - I wouldn't really know, whenever I want to fuck I just go out and fuck. But this - this is quite arousing. As he wipes his brow I can see his entire torso. It's toned and perfect - sweaty and glossed over like a god. I want to get on my knees and lick all of the perspiration off of his abdomen. I want to drag my tongue up the contours of his body and bite his tempting chest. I inwardly whine when he lets it fall back into place, dirty and covered with small streaks of blood.

"I realized he was a patient, and I didn't want to harm him. I recognized him from the day of my interview, I believe he sees the therapist two doors down from me..."

I roll my eyes and grab his wrist as I head for the elevator. I've now gained a chance to be alone with him and I will take that with no regrets. I've never nursed or taken care of anyone in my life - but I will do whatever it takes to calm this feeling of want. My recently-hatched plan is to take him back to his office, treat his wounds and then, inevitably - fuck. Yes the idea is somewhat pornographic in plot but I have no time to dwell on inadequacies.

We pass the blonde and I snarl, moving quickly towards him and placing the bottom of my shoe on his head, letting it rest there as I speak.

"Touch me - or him ever again and I'll make certain that you can never fuck again." I bend down, putting weight on my foot as I hover over him. "You were a horrible lay by the way. Might want to work on your technique."

"Fuck off." He grunts and I twist the sole of my shoe onto his cheek before I remove it completely. I feel a quick jolt and my attention is now on my therapist, realizing that he has tugged on our attachment and is pulling me towards the dinging elevator.

"Leave him." He says almost at a whisper and then releases his hold on me. When I feel the heat of his long fingers disappear from my skin I look at my hand and feel it drop down to my side. Like some metaphor for my pained anguish my arm slumps awkwardly, a heavy pendulum of emptiness and solitude. This man truly does make me overreact.

We step into the elevator and he leans the back of his head against the wall and sighs after I press the button for our floor. Every inch of his pale flesh is covered in sweat and I stand parallel to him, trying to control my urges by closing my eyes.

"Did he hurt you?" I feel a warm touch below my chin and my eyes snap open. He moves my face from left to right and I nudge my head to the side, arrogantly ripping his heated hands away from my face.

"You did this, actually. You know, when you threw me onto the cement like a psychopath?"

He blushes and rubs the back of his neck, "I'm so sorry, I just didn't want you to get hurt" his deep voice echoes within the small chamber.

I lick the side of my mouth and eye him up and down, his long stature and perspiring skin making my lips curl into a small smile. "Yes, well you just ruined my most successful business asset. It better not look as bad as it feels."

"You still look good." The compliment oozes innocence but I immediately look down, shamefully embarrassed of the sudden heat that rushes to my extremely (and just now validated) handsome face. To someone such as myself compliments should be taken as easily as a breath of air. I receive them daily it's almost second nature to smile and say thank you. Not that I should be thanking anyone for MY beauty, but alas it's all business I suppose. This man on the other hand, turns me into the likes of a disgusting teenage girl. It's abhorrently disturbing. My confidence to devour him is diminishing by the second as he continues to break down my mental walls of defense.

_*ding*_

Thankfully the elevator opens and it's as if my testicles finally dropped and I revert back into the confident man that I am. My hand slides under his firm bicep and I help him walk towards his office. Luckily that dreadful reception-witch has crawled back into her cave or wherever it is she came from, and no patients are around. Did I mention my hand was grasping his bicep? The naked skin and the slight bulge of the muscle flexes so tantalizingly so that I squeeze it as I simultaneously squeeze my plump bottom lip between my teeth.

Once we reach his door I open it and let him walk past me. I think his sweat is what is making me go crazy. Maybe this impossible attraction is just some biological fluke. His scent drifts by me while he passes and I gingerly close the door with my foot.

"I think I'm going to lie down, my head is pounding." The German plops down on the floor with his back propped up against the chair that sits parallel to his desk. This guy sure does enjoy sitting on floors for some strange reason.

"Hey" I saunter over to his desk and bend down to pick up his unfashionable shirt. "Take your shirt off and put this on – what you're wearing is filthy." I throw the khaki nightmare of a garment in his general direction and sigh.

"I'm going to the bathroom to check on my face – I'll be right back to check on you. You look pretty beaten up so just relax."

He laughs and removes his white shirt. "A patient caring for me on my first day, how pathetic." Once again he wipes his face with it, and then his chest, and then his abdomen. I want to live in that shirt. My eyes painfully detach themselves from the sight and I focus on the doorknob as I exit without saying a word.

The door clicks shut and I rest my back against it to breathe. I'm not sure what's happening or what I'm about to do, but I have to do  _something_. It's doubtful that he'll sleep with me, but perhaps he'd enjoy a session with my hand, or better yet my mouth. The mere thought makes me lick my bottom lip and I suddenly realize that I haven't sucked a cock in my entire life. What if I'm just amazing and not astounding? There's no way in hell I would be  _bad_  I know that for a fact, but…there's always the possibility that I would do something that turns him off. Then again – he  _is_  a virgin, what does he know about fellatio anyway? I really shouldn't let this troublesome thought pester me any further. Right now I have to get clean before I get dirty.

I shake my inner-ramblings as I walk down the hall and out of the office. Passing the elevators, I finally see a sign for the restrooms. My face and my hands feel filthy and I want nothing more than to scrub them for about five minutes until I deem them clean once again.

As I walk in, the facilities are of sub-standard conditions. Old tile on the walls, two urinals and two sinks. One stall. I really want to go back home. I grab a paper towel and use it to turn on the sink before finally looking up at the mirror.

My god.

I have dirt on my once pristine face. Dirt, and one single scratch about three centimeters in length, lightly bleeding. The water is rushing below me and I instantly bend down to cup my hands within the stream and soak my face in the cold tap. I rub my tarnished skin gently and watch as my hair falls from its place, the soiled water now mixing with clear and spinning down the drain. I place both of my hands on the side of the sink and hover over it, face-down for a few seconds as I let the water trickle off my skin. I don't fear what I will see when I look back up, but it angers me that this even took place. That unthinking therapist – imbecile. My blue eyes roll up and I see myself.

My skin is clean, the scratch almost non-existent. My cheeks are tinted pink and my lips are swollen from biting them so often. I have to say...I look like sex itself. I'm a little banged up, a little flustered, a bit messy - and hot as the fires of hell. My lips curl downward and my eyebrows lift approvingly as I check out my body. I remove my expensive dress shirt button by button. It's dirty, unusable, no good. I chuck it into the dumpster (without touching it) and all that I am left with is my white undershirt. I feel exposed and classless, the short sleeves showing off my slender upper arms and the snug fabric revealing my svelte figure. I still look breathtaking.

'What the...'

I snarl in sudden disgust when I feel something sliding down my thigh. Bolting into the stall I grunt and remove my pants and boxers as if they were aflame. The toilet paper roll practically flies off of the holder as I swirl copious amounts around my fist. I stick the blanket of paper between my thighs and remove the dripping bodily fluids from my leg. Clenching my walls, I shuffle my body so it could all slide out of me, and it does. If this is the price I have to pay for being a sex addict it isn't necessarily worth it. I collect the trail of semen and throw the pile of paper into the toilet before flushing it with my foot.

I have to use that wretched, ugly bottled soap. The pink liquid glops onto the palm of my hand when I stick my palm under it. The water is still running, so I thoroughly wash each finger and fingernail. Once I finish my meticulous process, I reach for the paper towel, turn off the sink, acquire about ten more paper towels to dry my hands and face, and then exit the area.

..

When I finally reach the office, I intake a small breath of air and breathe out. I can do this. I'm Ciel fucking Phantomhive; I can do as I please and what I please whenever the hell I damn well please. My spotless fingers grab on to the doorknob and I make my way inside.

Shit. No.

My confident wave of narcissism falls to pieces in the split second that I see my therapist. He had removed his white shirt and put on the monstrous khaki number, but somehow failed to button it up - instead opting to lie on his back, his legs spread with one hand over his bruised eye and one resting right above his crotch, practically digging into his own pants - his shirt slipping just past the curve of his shoulders.

After I quietly close the door, I walk up to him and fall to my knees like a sinner in church. My mind is trying to work its way around the statuesque figure before me. His stomach is outlined perfectly with a trace of muscle, a small sliver of his hip bone peeking out from within his pants and his navel like a piece of carved marble set in the perfect position. His torso rises and falls with every breath and I stare at his chest like a depraved teenage boy ogling breasts for the first time. His collar bone protrudes beautifully and my eyes follow it to the tips of his broad shoulders.

With my lack of reasonable decision-making, I place my palms flat on the ground next to him and bend over his body. My nose is hovering within the crook of his neck and I perversely inhale as calm as possible. His scent drives me to the point of madness. Slowly I part my lips and make my way down the chest, breathing both through nose and mouth so I can practically taste him. The top of my plump lip grazes small fine hairs and I roll my tongue within my mouth to capture the essence even more. When I slide past his navel I pause, mere inches from the epicenter of where this aroma is being born. My own dick is becoming aroused and I do the unthinkable.

My nose nudges between the two slender fingers that are under his pants and the warm batch of skin below his briefs. My eyes close and I let out a hot breath before I start breathing faster and faster. The pace in which I'm consuming oxygen is making me dizzy and my fingers clench into the carpeted floor as I stick my tongue out and lick this man's flesh. I can taste the contrasting boundary of smooth skin and fine hair and I only wish I could traverse lower onto his body. This therapist of mine oozes testosterone I can smell it. It makes me want to fight and draw blood, it makes me want to turn into an animal and go completely insane all at the same time. His musky flavor on the tip of my tongue is like the sweetest nectar in all the world and I retract my wet muscle to taste him like a fine wine. The buds on my tongue separate every flavor and I can feel my arms start to shiver. It's perfection. I would bottle this if I could.

A low groan comes from within the man's throat and I immediately straighten my back, my hands still flush against the ground. I look at him and his arm slides off of his face, revealing his closed eyes and his expressive brows. Like a curious cub I slowly prowl towards him, half composed in the chance that he awakes.

The composure, although not surprising, doesn't last very long when I see his lips part ever so slightly to release a tired breath. That mouth is calling me like the most expensive and exquisite wine ever created. Deep red like Merlot and just as tempting, the flush set of lips beckon me and I move my face to align with his.

I stare into his closed eyelids, noticing his long lashes and the way they twitch as he sleeps. As my eyes remain locked on to him I lower my lips until they press onto his. His mouth is unexpectedly soft, smooth. Otherworldly. I lightly clench onto his bottom lip with my teeth and hold it in place as my tongue drags across it. It's so sweet it's sexy, it's more than sexy it's erotic and it is making me act like a starved wolf in the presence of his first meal.

My legs begin to shake and I close my eyes this time when I open my mouth and slide my tongue across both of his lips, the sound of a small squelch dancing within my ears when our slippery mouths collide. I lap at them and, without thinking, gently push my tongue between his slightly opened teeth. I am breathing harshly through my nose like an excited bull and when I feel it - when I touch it - when I  _taste_  that small mound of muscle - I lose it and moan. A mindless fool is what I am - because a mere instant later I feel a sudden emptiness upon my lips. A sharp gasp, and a push on my shoulders.

"What...what do you think you're doing?"

He awoke.

..


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian POV switchydoos

 

 

" _Fuck, you're cute."_

* * *

 

'Sebastian, man - that chick over there wants to make out with you!' I remember being dragged to this house party during my first year of college. My best friend and I were loners ever since elementary school, and now as we entered the clichéd realm of peer-pressured 'university life' together, his whole demeanor had suddenly changed. Unlike him, my entire concentration was on school. I studied day and night and when I wasn't studying I was reading and writing. I guess some would consider that bland and somewhat anti-social, but I didn't really care what others thought.

'She's been checking you out all night, she looks kind of wasted.' At that point in time, I hadn't even experienced what it was like to be drunk. After my third year of college, I became interested in fine wines, and I might have sat in my dorm room many a night and drank myself to sleep - only when I didn't have class the next day of course. I would never compromise school for play. If drinking wine by yourself and reading books is, in fact, play. Before my interest in wine sparked, though, I despised alcohol. After that night I hated it even more. My friend had pushed a lukewarm beer in my face during the party and I remember just placing it on the floor by my feet and never touching it again.

'Oh god, Sebastian - she's coming over. Be cool!' I never interacted with women. It just didn't interest me. It wasn't just women but people in general. I had my one close friend and my schoolwork and that was all I needed. Some girls had expressed their interests in me during high school, but once they realized I was this studious, unapproachable and awkward guy – they usually backed off. I'm really tall and thin, I have strength but I rarely use it. My hair is dark and always a bit messy, my skin is pale. I just don't get what is so appealing about any of that.

'Has anyone ever told you that you're fucking hot?' This girl. She came up to us, placed herself in my lap and wrapped a slinky arm around my shoulder. My eyes slowly slid towards my friend and all he did was laugh and give me a thumbs-up. When I looked back up at her, I tried to push her off but she just latched on tighter. I was about to stand up because the mere proximity of her body on mine was making me feel ill, but then she did the unspeakable. She kissed me, or more like, she violated my mouth. Her cold beer-soaked tongue wormed its way past my lips and sloppily flopped all around like a dying fish, dragging across my teeth and prodding at my cheek. It was my first kiss, and it was a complete disaster. I tasted her, a horrible cocktail of as many liquors as you could fathom, and my stomach turned. I jerked my head back in disagreement and she widened her jaw and attacked me again, this time making strange babbling noises as if that would lull me into some altered state of reality where I don't mind her bothersome actions. And then it happened.

'GOD FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK?' I had dry-heaved once, and then jerked forward and vomited all over her. My friend covered his mouth in shock and just grabbed my hand and ripped me from my chair as if it was the only thing he could think of. As I placed my arm over my lips I followed him, running across the crowded room and down the hall, out of the building and then to the street. We stopped in this alley and he finally let go of me, laughing loud in his drunken state. I couldn't help but smile as I removed my shirt and started cleaning my face and mouth with it. When I looked at him he was jumping up and down and giving me an exact play-by-play of what had happened as if I wasn't even in the room. Our laughter filled the small space for a good ten minutes and then we sat on the dirty floor, tired from nothing. His body was small and he leaned into me, cold and drunk and now letting sleep get the best of him. I wrapped an arm around his shoulder and his cheek slumped onto my bare chest. I sat there awake for three hours as he slept, and then carried him to our dorm when the sun came up. If there was anything memorable about that night – it was that one moment when I held my best friend in that cold, dirty alley.

About a month after the party, he passed away. Ever since we met in elementary school, my best friend had a troubling existence. He suffered from severe depression, was always anxious, he was easy to manipulate at times if he felt he needed to fit in. He didn't know how to handle stress, and his mental state had been slowly deteriorating without my knowledge. The fact that he hid his problems from me made me upset, but I curbed most of my other emotions after the incident (and gained an unfortunate smoking habit). If I knew, I would have been able to help him. After he took his life, I grieved and moved on as one with a healthy mentality should. It was the hardest thing I had to go through, but it made me a better person in the end. I now knew what I wanted to do with my life. I changed my major drastically, from Physics to Psychology and completely submersed myself in the subject. I went through books like my life depended on them – and it did. I went to class, became a professor's assistant, continued my education, and time literally just flew by me. Before I knew it I had finished my internship, handed in my dissertation and graduated summa cum laude – highest in my class.

I was like a newborn being birthed into a whole different world after I finished school. The first thing I wanted to do was move away. When an acquaintance of mine had told me about a small practice that urgently needed a therapist, I immediately took the chance. When I found out I would be assisting patients with sex addictions, I inwardly cringed. My sex life consisted of that one kiss in my freshmen year of college – some six years ago, and well, I'm a guy so…the normal masturbatory behaviors of a 26 year-old, I suppose. If you call once a month normal, which I know, professionally – is _not_  normal. The point is I felt nervous, but I also thought it was a good opportunity seeing that it was something I had familiarized myself with during my time at school. There is probably not one disorder or addiction that I don't know about – that is what no social life and no sex life can create, I suppose…an encyclopedia of a brain. I was excited when they gave me an offer.

..

My first patient, Ciel Phantomhive. The name was regal, but the man who stood in front of me was beyond royalty. I had bumped into him in the hall mere moments before he stepped into my office and I was too much of a fumbling mess to even take real notice of him. He was thin, small but not short. His facial features were soft, so much so that I wondered how old he actually was, since his file read 26. It looked like he was 19. Neatly combed hair tucked behind his ear confirmed its position when he slid his finger behind his lobe. All of his movements were dignified and thought out. His voice was stern and authoritative and it made me look up at him immediately. His eyes were large, blue. A dark blue – a royal blue to suit his demeanor. He was high class and he wanted everyone to know it. I wondered what he would be like. There's something about him that intrigued me. I'm not sure what it was, although it might be the way he carried himself. It attracted me, and I wanted to know more about his problems so I could help him. Besides insulting my clothes, I think I could see us getting along. I like to think people are genuinely complacent when they are around strangers, so hopefully this will go well.

..

I feel like I'm dreaming. I'm tired and agitated and my face feels like it's pulsating. There's heat gathering around my waist but I'm trying to cross between sleep and reality so I'm not too sure what's going on. I am nudged into waking once again when I feel warmth run down my entire torso. Something is happening but I don't know what it is…this feeling is new to me. Another tug into consciousness jolts my slumbering mind when I can taste something. It's sweet and hot and makes my breath hitch. As I breathe in sharply I finally wake and my eyes slowly open.

Pale skin. I see it peeking from a thin white undershirt. Slender arms, a sliver of a slightly protruding collar bone. It's him. My patient is over me, his lips between mine, his tongue invading my mouth and a moan playing within his throat. Unlike my first kiss this is slow and sensual and it feels completely different. But both are unwanted. I press against his shoulder with my hand and disconnect our attachment as he opens those blue eyes of his and swallows.

"What do you think you're doing?" I lick my lips and taste my own tongue, sampling the last remnants of this man's flavor and feeling my chest rise and fall as if I were exasperated beyond belief.

He says nothing; he just looks at me with this animalistic stare. I look down and notice my shirtless torso. Flashes of memory start to flicker into my mind and I start to piece together what he's done to me. When I look past him I notice how my pants are shuffled low onto my hips and I clear my throat when I see it.

I'm aroused.

Thankfully he doesn't notice, and I don't want him to notice. I get up on my elbows, bending my torso and desperately trying to hide the inconvenience that is sticking up in-between my legs. The atmosphere is thick as we both stare at one another and I try to piece together everything that's going on.

His Adam's apple moves and I notice his lips. They're plump with blood and freshly used. My eyes can't detach themselves from the sight until I feel something under my chin.

He lifts my face with the tip of his index finger and looks at me like he wants to devour me whole. His blue eyes lid and when he licks the side of his mouth I catch his wet tongue slip past his lips and my arousal stiffens at the sight. I'm nervous. This isn't what I want to happen. My confusion grows when he suddenly shifts his body and straddles my waist, his hands rubbing his own thighs as if the motion is keeping his need to attack at bay. Luckily he doesn't sit on me or he would notice my growing problem.

"Ciel...get off." I shakily demand and nudge my head to the side, detaching his finger from my face . He doesn't listen.

"Did you know..." his voice is low and sweet "that I haven't kissed anyone in over ten years until today?"

I know for a fact that I'm stronger than him, but I don't want to hurt him so I breathe out a reply. "We can't do this, please get off."

"I am getting off." His flushed lips curl into a smile at his own double entendre and it makes me even more anxious.

"How about you?" He brushes the back of his hand against my throat and hums "how long has it been since you kissed someone?"

"Get off..." I place both of my hands on his hips and slightly push him. That was probably the wrong move to make, because once we make this physical contact, he arches his back and moans. Loudly. His head lolls backwards at my touch and he bites that plump bottom lip of his. The moan is deep and sharp and it makes my pants undeniably tighter. This isn't the doctor-patient relationship I was looking forward to.

I can smell him as my hands remain frozen in their place. His scent is light and clean and it's as if I can almost sense the aromas of a fine vineyard slowly emanating off of him. All of my senses highten and I clench my teeth because I know this can easily get out of hand.

"Ciel, control yourself. You don't even know me, we can't do this. It's wrong."

"You don't want me?" his head falls back down and he stares right at me with what I'm guessing is feigned offense. His hair falls and frames his face, still in tact and perfect "am I not good enough for you?"

"That's not it! First of all, I'm not even...gay."

"Oh? You sound a bit confused..." his lustful expression turns into a smirk and his hands suddenly slam down on to the floor, flanking my head. His palms begin to slide across the carpet, his body lowering and lowering until his elbows rest by my ears and our torsos touch "we can fix that" he whispers in my ear and I close my eyes because this is all too much for me.

I can feel my erection start to twitch and my boxers become soiled with light dribbles of precum. I don't even know how long it's been since I've been this hard but all I can think about is how lucky I am that he doesn't notice it. But I notice his - he wants me to. His arousal is jamming into my ribs and it's so stiff that it's becoming slightly painful. This has to end.

I grab him under his arms and start to push back. I'm not using that much strength but I thought it would be enough - I was wrong. I can hear his fingernails dig into the carpet and his body stiffens as he presses harder into me.

"You're not going anywhere, German." A hot tongue begins to lap at my neck and I can't help what I do next.

I moan.

He laughs.

I panic.

He keeps going as I close my mouth and finally use my strength, clenching his biceps harshly and pushing him clear off of me, throwing him to the side. His back slams onto the floor and I loom over him, my persistence starting to get more intense as my palms jab into his shoulders.

"I told you I'm not into men. Or patients."

He lifts a perfectly arched brow and gives me a cocky reply. "Then what  _are_  you into?"

"That's my business." I get up as fast as I can and turn around so he doesn't notice the bulge in my pants. As I walk towards the wall, I try to look at myself in a small mirror hanging next to my diploma, but my eyes shift when I notice the flush on my cheeks and neck. I can hear him breathing as my fingers frantically button up my khaki shirt. My mind is swimming with thoughts and I try to calm myself as well as my erection before he interrupts me once again.

"You know you'll give in to me. I heard that moan. Your voice was so deep and sultry it made me want to strip off all your clo-"

"Stop." I demand sternly.

I can hear him shuffling behind me and my eyes turn to the mirror once again as I notice him stand. He walks towards me, my stare fixated on the reflection as he steps closer and closer.

"I always get what I want..." With his hands pushing into my lower back he shoves me into the wall and presses his hips into my backside. I can feel how hard he is as my cheek collides with the mirror.

"And I want you," he tears at my shirt and turns me around, our faces mere inches from one another. I can feel my heart beating faster and faster and I swallow when I see his long eyelashes cover half of his eyes and his lips speak his next words slowly, "right now".

My body jerks to the side as I practically scale the wall and remove myself from his trap. I run a quick hand through my hair as I stumble towards my desk. Thankfully the bulky table is high enough to cover my problem so I stand behind it and place my palms on the desk.

"Look Ciel I don't know what you think you're doing but this isn't healthy. You can't pursue every man you cross, you need help."

"What makes you think I pursue every man I cross?" Step by step he moves closer until he's standing directly across from me. He gently places his hands on the desk and leans forward, the muscles in his lean upper arms tensing slightly.

"You were with that other man up on the roof. You had just left my office..."

"And?"

"And...it's obvious that you just picked him up for a sexual encounter!"

He throws his head back and laughs, exposing his slender throat with each smooth chuckle. Even his laugh is cool and composed - this man is the embodiment of confidence.

"Oh my, Dr. German. So you knew we were fucking like two horny dogs all along? What was with that 'stop hurting him' bullshit then?"

"I wasn't lying. It really did look like he was hurting you, or as if you weren't enjoying it. I was concerned for your safety, you were practically hanging off a ledge you know, it was dangerous-"

"Fuck, you're cute" and after he said that all I felt was a violent tug on my shirt, my body practically being ripped from the floor, and his lips attacking my own.

* * *

 

I fucking attack those firm lips of his and close my eyes. I'm clenching onto that bland khaki shirt like I want to rip it off and burn it and never ever see it in my presence ever again. God this man is sexy. He's more than sexy, he's statuesque and strong and probably hung like a fucking horse.

I have both fists twisting into that wretched fabric as our faces practically smash into one another. He hisses because of the desk jamming into his waist and I use that as an opportunity for sticking my tongue down his throat.

His black bangs sweep across my cheek and I open my eyes to look at his reaction. His firm jaw is completely open and his eyes are shut so tight that it's almost comical. But none of that matters to me. What matters is that I can taste him. Fuck, his mouth is hot his tongue is...his tongue is amazing, but he's not entirely kissing me back. Which I can't really process after I go ten years without kissing someone, why the guy I choose doesn't even want it.

I'm selfish. And quite needy, so I tilt my head and quickly, within a split second remove my lips from his to breathe onto his mouth "Kiss me. Kiss me right and I'll leave you alone."

After I say that I barely begin to realize that there was a slight tone of desperation in my voice. I was never even fully aware that I was even capable of feeling desperate for anything at all. The strange thought leaves me when I feel my therapist grab both of my arms.

It happens so suddenly. His large hands wrap around my wrists and squeeze me with this brute force that makes me shake. He's pulling me as our lips just hover over one another. He jerks my entire body forward so much so that I start to climb on the table, placing one knee on the flat surface and then another, knocking down a cup of office supplies as well as his name plaque. I make no sound even though he's hurting me, and even though he's making my dick thicker and longer I remain calm and say nothing.

Once my body is on the table he does the unthinkable. He licks his lips quickly and then ravages my own. There's an explosion between us and he swirls his tongue around mine like it was nobody's fucking business. I moan and make noises that I've never made before as I try to keep up. I can't even move, I can't open my eyes all I can do is succumb to each and every flick and roll of his hot muscle that controls my own like a puppet. My wrists are still bound, my knees are slipping because he keeps pulling me towards his body but I don't even notice, all I can feel are our lips fusing together and my pants getting tighter by the second.

With a soft smack, he disconnects our mouths and we are just left there panting like wild animals. My eyes crack open as I try to catch my breath and I can see him swallow and try to compose himself. He releases his hold on my wrists and then speaks in his deep, husky voice.

"I gave you what you want. Now leave."

I can't believe he just said that. My hands plop down onto the desk and I'm now on all fours as I see him suspiciously sit down as quickly as he can. He crosses his legs and then runs a hand through his black locks. My chest is still rising and falling hard, my white undershirt has been ruffled and wrinkled almost as much as my comprehension.

"What?" I stare right at him.

"You said you would leave me alone, please go home now. Our session is over."

Our session. I'm not too sure why but that sounds so bad, so erotic and just plain…sexy to me. I want to laugh but I don't, because his face tells me that he does not find it as sexy as I do. So troublesome.

"What do I have to do to get you inside me?" Plain and simple – I want answers.

"Nothing. I mean…that won't happen. I told you I'm not into men. And I'm not into sex-addicts either."

"Oh?" I crawl slightly towards him, my fingers clenching the edge of the table as I lean forward "Do you want to be my one and only? I'll stop having sex after today if you'd like."

"You should stop having so much sex to help curb your addiction - regardless of what I think."

"But I want you to tell me what to do."

Ah, yeah. There it is. His flushed face, his clenched jaw. A slight twitch of his eyebrow. He loved those words. So he's into dominance, perhaps. That would be a nice change of pace for me. And it would certainly be a heavy contrast against the attitude that this poor virginal man exudes. I like it. I think I'll play my cards right with this one. It's about time I test my virtues and tame my cock.

"Ciel, this was the first and last time, okay? I'm…sorry I did that. You should leave. Please get off my desk."

I crawl backwards and then follow his orders, because I'm a good little servant (and I know precisely what I'm doing, mind you). I try hard not to laugh at my own thoughts and I don't, because once my feet hit the ground I stretch, my heavily tented crotch thrusting itself right before the German with no shame whatsoever. My dick is so hard it hurts. I moan lazily and then tuck my hair behind my ears and smooth out my shirt.

"I'll stop having sex, doctor – just for you" I say in a seductive voice "…and I'll see you next week, give you a little progress report. It's still a date - right?"

"Y-yes..."

He's so flustered I just know he's hot and bothered. I can confirm it.

I walk towards the door of his office and then turn back around to face him as my hand wraps around the doorknob.

"Oh and one other thing…" I smile and nudge my head slightly, lifting my chin "you might want to question your own sexual orientation there - because you had the biggest hard-on I've ever seen in my entire life. To think I could bypass that monster - you must be crazy."

I walk out of the room smugly and then close the door, letting my words sink in as the tiny click of the lock affirms my completely irrational feelings for this man.

I'll be honest...I can't wait until next week's session.

..


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...one of my favorite chaps

_"You polygamous bitch."_

* * *

"Oh fuck...yeahhh…" My knees are squeezing against each side of my beautifully crafted, vintage clawfoot bathtub. Steaming hot water is raining over my slumped over neck and cascading down my pale, perfectly sculpted back. My large, marble-floored bathroom is lit beautifully with soft light that enters through two enormous French windows and I can see the refraction of the morning sun being captured within the decorative frosted glass.

It's six a.m. and I'm currently indulging in my daily morning breakfast of fucking myself in the shower. My forehead is pressed against the curved rim of the tub, my supple thighs are parted as far as I can spread them, and I  _would_  be on all fours, but I have three fingers pushing in and out of me as my other hand occupies itself by squeezing my painfully rigid dick. Sometimes I question why I don't just jack off like any other normal male, but, I like to spoil myself. I need this romantic time with my own hand.

I grip my swollen shaft and pump slowly. My blushing tip fucks my fist as sensually as I can take it and my three digits fan out within my tight hole. I close my eyes and grunt lewdly – my imagination focused on only one man.

My therapist.

For the past six days after our session, I have been waking up to tented sheets and soiled pride. I dream of him every night, I can't get his body out of my thoughts. His tongue penetrates my fantasies. I can feel it in my mouth, I can hear it suckling on my lips and I can taste it. Fuck how I can taste it. I've never had anything so preposterously delectable in my entire life. The way he moved was unskilled. It was ravenous. The way he breathed out through his nostrils, how his eyelids crinkled due to shutting them so tight. His hands gripping my wrists and squeezing them like a vice. Like a…a… _fuck_.

" _Sh-shit..."_  


My shapely head pokes in and out through clenched fingers, red from the heat of the water and the friction of my hand. My slit is dripping and I jam my fingers harder, deeper - so deep that my knuckles rub against the outside of my hole. I twist and turn my digits, wiggling them around and nudging every inch of my insides as my forehead painfully presses harder onto the porcelain edge of the tub. My knees give out, my shaft begins to twitch and I growl as I come. It's hard and violent and I loosely flop my dick from left to right as my cum spurts out of me and mixes with the water. I'm panting so hard that you can see the ridges of my ribcage as I breathe in and out. My body splashes down chest-first onto the tub and I move my head to the side so I can breathe easier.

I slide my fingers out of myself and bring my forearm up to my cheek, using it as a pillow as the water continues to flow above me. I've done this every single morning and twice at night - once again in the shower and then I rub one out right before I go to sleep. I could be accused of assault I've beaten my dick that many times.

I rise from my position and grab the large silver knob of the shower. As the water receeds I catch my breath and slosh the strands of my hair around with my slender fingers. When I step out of the tub my feet land on a soft plush rug and I sigh as I reach to my left and grab a large, bone-white towel.

As I drag the soft cotton over my skin, excitement flows through me. I'm thinking of what to wear, which cologne to use, how to style my hair. I kid - I spent all of yesterday doing this. But that's besides the point. The point here is that I'm going to go see the German again, and I want to take his breath away. I want him to see me, and then smell me, and then fuck me until I can no longer walk. It's been seven days since I've had any dick, I need something thick in me.

I slide on a pair of snug black briefs and walk over to my dressing room. I stand in front of my full-length mirror as the waistband snaps onto my freshly-washed skin and grin at the reflection of my untouched body. My mind begins to race as I continue to dress myself and I try to remember the last time I went so long without sex. It was probably about a year ago, I was so sick that I was bed-ridden for three weeks. It was such torture, I couldn't even masturbate. The pain that I endured couldn't hold a candle to the complete anguish I felt due to my non-existent promescuity. To ponder this is worse than death. At least when I die there will be nothing left of me to fuck.

I frown at the thought and the clink of my silver belt buckle shakes away my morbid flow of consciousness. I eye my tailored pants and twist my waist to get that profile view of my ass that I love to see. I would say these black trousers flatter me, but I think it's the other way around. I make these pants look good.

I re-tuck my equally black dress shirt into my pants and flatten my hand against my slim torso. I've been obsessively working out in lieu of getting pounded in the ass, and I fear my clothes are fitting a tad bit loose. I'm a man of normal stature but it seems my body is resistant to any kind of muscle growth, it's so bothersome. Well, I suppose it does get me laid, seeing that I have bent over in front of dozens of straight men. If they can't see my dick then it isn't there, if they can't see my flat chest then that doesn't mean I can't possess two blobs of tits. God, men are stupid.

After I place my snug, dark brown vest over my abdomen I button it up and quickly wrap a black tie around my neck. As I lift the knot towards my throat I stare at myself once again.

It looks like I'm going to a funeral, and I am. The death of my sex-life. I will weep in the cab ride later, right now I must tend to the money-making machine which is my face.

It's flawless. My eyes do look a bit tired from all of the exercise, but other than that I am blemish-free and baby-soft, just like my dick. My hair has now dried and I use no product, as if I would purposely damage my hair with something so potent. What kinds of mongrels still do that? I gently comb my hair with my fingers and the strands shine healthily when I part them.

I look good, I look real good. I'd fuck me.

After I place my black polished loafers onto my feet I gently fasten two silver cufflinks onto each sleeve. They are small and in the shape of my family's crest, the logo of our winery, and given to me by my father. They glint as I reach for my suit jacket and my eyes follow the tradition of my lineage as my arms slide into the fitted coat.

One last glance in the mirror has me lifting my chin in arrogance. I look perfect. Sure I might be overdressed but if I could get that man's dick to rise just by looking at me I could die happily. If I could get him inside of me I could die today.

Tearing my gaze away from my reflection, I walk towards a small vanity nestled within the large dressing room and pick up a blood-red colored bottle of cologne. As I open it, a subtle aroma of sweet cloves fills the air. It can't compare to the scent of that man's flesh, though. If I could wear that musky sex-infused fragrance every day I would fear my cock would never soften.

I stare mindlessly into nothing at all as I dab some of the cologne onto my throat and continue thinking about the German. He excites me to such a great degree that when I even think about being around him, my heartbeat runs wild. I might have to get that checked out by a doctor as this has never happened to me before. Perhaps he makes me anxious and that contributes to my shortness of breath. Maybe I'm dying? No, ugh, how detrimental that would be. What if I'm becoming ill once again...?

The sudden ringing of my house phone makes me jerk my head towards my bedroom. I'm not going to answer it, because I already know who it is.

I walk past my enormous four-poster bed and push back cream curtains to look down onto my cobblestone driveway. Immediately I feel this sensation in the pit of my stomach. It's eagerness, contentment - pure, unbridled joy. I hide my excitement and twist my smile into a serious expression.

My cab is here.

* * *

"Mr. Phantomhive, you're early!" the shrill voice of the receptionist greets me and chills crawl down my spine. "And my goodness, looking so sharp today!"

"Am I?" I whisper and look her directly in the eye.

"Yes to both!" she giggles and points at a row of chairs about fifteen feet away from her den "please sit and wait, Dr. Michaelis is with another patient and will be with you shortly!"

I say nothing and give the woman my back because it's what she deserves after making my ears bleed. I walk into the waiting area and choose to sit right next to the wall. The hallway to all of the offices is to my left, so if anyone were to walk by, I could check them out without them immediately noticing me. I like to strategize.

I unbutton my jacket and let it fall open as I sit down on an uncomfortable cloth chair. Placing my right ankle atop my left knee, I lace my slender fingers together and eye the bland decor of the room. There is another row of four chairs right in front of me, and at the complete opposite side of where I sit rests the docile beast of a receptionist. I lift my chin and lower my eyes as I watch her. She's about forty, normal body, no tits, annoyingly bulbous eyes and curly blonde hair that intrusively occupies about a two foot circumference around her dome. I watch her and she looks down, a small blush dusting her cheeks. If she would possess a dick it would be hard, so I smirk slightly and shift my eyes as far left as possible when I hear a door creak open within the hall.

I hear a soft giggle and the shuffling of feet. My ears prick up and my nostrils flair as the sound gets closer. It's him. I can smell him. I lick my lips and swallow, my head still facing forward but my eyes locked onto the hallway.

A woman saunters by me. She's in a short black dress and a white cardigan. I would guess she's about twenty, thin, this one has tits. My eyes move onto her mediocre ass and I snarl slightly as I watch her hips lock from left to right. Not two seconds after, I see him.

When his body passes me it's as if time freezes. Everything stops. He's in mid-step, only two feet from me and I take in every excruciating detail about him. That big tall nerd, god I want to see him naked, I would pay a million for it. His arms are exposed. He's wearing a black short-sleeved button-up shirt fastened all the way to his neck. No tie. Lo and behold - a black sweater vest. How dare he. Is he wearing such a thing to spite me, or to rile me up? The latter I hope. The vest is cotton and thin, it is fitted and shows off his slim figure. His pants are normal, black and he has old black dress shoes on his feet. My eyes slide up his long body and I release my breath when I see the side of his face. Black bangs are neatly tucked behind his ear and he is wearing tortoise-shell colored reading glasses. Excuse me while I blow my load all over myself but fuck. It's beyond sexy. My fingers uncross and I grip each side of the armrests of the chair to keep myself from attacking him like a bitch in heat.

Time fast-forwards and the woman and my man are now speaking to the ingrate in reception. They didn't notice me.

The German is to the woman's right, and I see him turn his head and glance through the window of the entrance. It seems like he's looking for someone. My heartbeat increases when he takes his glasses off and actually walks towards the walkway to peer once again.

He's looking for me.

It's not an assumption. It's a fact. The next thing I see him do is turn to curly sue and inquire about something. She chuckles and nods her large blonde head before pointing right at me. I knew it. Now he's really going to get it.

When our eyes lock it's as if the whole world around us disappears and it's just us two. I don't realize how hard I'm squeezing the armrests, how clenched my jaw has become, or how rapidly my composure has diminished into nothing at all. While we inhabit this two-person dimension all we do is look at one another. I'm not sure what the duration of our staring contest is, but the fabric of our other world is so easily ripped by the demanding voice of this other patient.

"Doctor Sebastian." My eyes snap to the girl and my right leg plops down onto the floor as I see her touch my possession, grabbing his arm and turning his body to face her.

She has shoulder-length black hair and she smiles like she's willing to bend over and get fucked right then and there. Well you're not the only one, sweetheart. My blue eyes narrow as I watch her and admittedly, I cross my arms like a pissed off teenage girl when I see the German smile back at her and cutely scratch the nape of his neck like a stupid shy little piece of shit.

Suddenly, oh so unexpectedly, I catch him glance at me as they speak of who knows what. Oh, I get it now. Well, well, what a surprise. He's purposely trying to flirt with this poor wretched creature to get me jealous. How utterly adorable.

His scarlet eyes keep getting sucked into the temptation of my direction and I bite my bottom lip and slowly release it from the confines of my teeth to test the existence of my humanity. The most endearing thing about this is that every time his eyes meet mine he visibly shifts in position and awkwardly moves his arms around. Those long limbs don't even know where to go so I chuckle when the virgin leans an elbow on the reception desk. This is better than any movie I've ever seen.

What happens next makes my smile crumble to pieces. He laughs, deeply. His voice is so potent that I can feel it throughout my entire body and my dick twitches slightly because of it. After the laugh, comes something that makes me grimace - he touches her upper arm.

It's as if hot lava bubbles and stews within me and I snort at the gentle action. Those hands were on me just last week, those fingers were wrapping around my wrists and his tongue was wrapping around my own. How dare he touch someone else. What a little slut, I'm here sexless and desperate and he's wildly touching arms like it's his second job? Have some decency, have a bit of modesty you whore, you promiscuous little slut. You polygamous bitch.

Two can play at this game.

I softly clear my throat as I stand up and brush my palm over the expensive silk of my chocolate vest before buttoning my coat back up. I run a hand through my hair and shift the strands back so they can delicately fall into place once again. My scent is released when I move my arms and ruffle my locks and the faint sound of my shoes tapping against the hardwood floor of the room builds my confidence as I approach.

He sucks me in like a black hole. My body is gravitating towards him and I can't help but get pulled into the event horizon of his being. His face slowly turns from the girl to me and I watch as his eyes slide down my finely clothed body. He's checking me out. It's so blatant that it's turning me on. I can see him swallow and it makes me want to attack him but I control my urges.

"Hello, doctor" I chime smoothly and join the two. I can smell him and I'm already getting high off of it. I can tell that he can smell me too because I notice his nostrils slightly flair and his chest rise. Both of our scents emanate from one another and fuck each other mid-air, creating an enticing bouquet of aromas that make us question why we're not in the other room banging the shit out of each other. At least that's what I'm thinking.

My right hand touches his back and he instantly stiffens - as do I. My arousal aside, I slide my palm down and shamelessly feel the muscles of his back. I see him flinch, I feel his heat. He's so hot that I wouldn't be surprised if he were to spontaneously combust right before my eyes. The contact lasts mere seconds, but that fuckable flush on his face remains for much, much longer.

My eyes soften as I remove my hand from the small of his back and present my upwards-facing palm to the girl.

"Hello there, I'm Ciel Phantomhive, very nice to meet you."

My charm makes the bitch freeze in place and my smile puts a blush on her cheeks. Whore.

She places her fingertips in my palm and I bring her hand up slightly towards my body like a man of etiquette should. I am completely unprepared for what happens next.

"Um, n-no need for that - this is an office building, not a dinner party." The German claws at our attached hands and forcefully separates them as he nervously attempts to processes what he just did.

The sound of his husky voice is music to my ears and the barbaric way in which he acts makes me smirk. I look at the girl and place my palm on my abdomen to quickly lighten the mood and save my poor therapist from further embarrassment. She thinks it's because he likes her, I know it's because he doesn't.

"He's right, I apologize." I charmingly smile and the bitch practically has my babies. Her eyes light up and I notice her giving me the once-over. Yeah, yeah take it all in you little harlot. I reply to her stares by checking her out as well and ending this little charade.

Her body bores me and she seems unintelligent and meager. My eyes pause at her breasts and I flash a quick, offensive frown that only the female species could ever detect. When our eyes meet again she narrows her brown orbs and huffs. Whoops, she noticed.

"I'm leaving," she snarls at me like a spoiled little brat and then looks up at my therapist, "it was nice meeting you, Sebastian. I look forward to our next session".

"Yes" he nods and the girl pushes herself right between us as she exits. So vicious, my how rude.

The nosy receptionist stares at us with her murky green eyes and then quickly goes back to her work when she comes to the realization that she's prying. I stare at her and think about using her as a pawn now that this woman is attempting to worm her way into the German's pants.

"Are you coming?" I hear my therapist as he walks towards his office and the blonde looks up at him and then turns her gaze towards me.

"Why of course." I lift a brow and speak my words to the receptionist as she widens her eyes and fumbles for more work, ending our visual attachment.

Yeah, I think I'll make a new friend after my session.

* * *

I walk down the hallway and watch the German's tall body as he opens the door. I'm still a few feet behind him, so when I approach his office he is there holding the doorknob with his head leaning against the opened door. Not to be crude, but my testicles practically burst at the sight of his exposed neck. I need to make him mine - now.

I walk in and stare out in front of me until I hear the click of the door. When I do, I turn around and walk towards him. He automatically backs up into the door and I prowl closer to him like a curious cat. A curious cat that wants to fuck.

I stop when our bodies are about a foot from one another, and I place my hand high on the frame of the door that sits by his cheek.

"I never knew you liked pussy so much what with the way your tongue was rolling around my throat last week."

"Step back, Ciel. This is wasting our time."

"No. Answer me. Do you do that with all of your patients? Is that how you build the bonds of your relationship? Did you kiss her - did you fuck her?"

"No!" he knits his brows angrily and the tension between us becomes thicker.

"Are you sure?" I place all of my weight on my propped up hand and lean into him. My nose touches his skin and moves from his collarbone to his jawline and I inhale that flesh like it was a new drug. There's no scent of another - it's all him.

"Knock it off!" He takes his hand and places it on my shoulder. Pushing me, he elaborates, "I've only done that with you, and that was a one-time thing!"

I ignore the sharp pang in my chest and the shoving of my body and retaliate by pushing him back violently. I know he's stronger than me, I know he's bigger. But my body is in need of his and I have to do everything I can to obtain him.

His back slams into the door and I twist his collar within my fist. "You don't want me?"

"I told you, I'm not...like that. Please, don't make me use force, Ciel."

"Doctor Michaelis, are you trying to seduce me?" I lean in and kiss his throat, lapping my tongue against the salty flesh. I suckle on the delectable skin and my dick achingly throbs when I feel his hot breath in my ear. Virgins are such amazing creatures.

"Stop" he breathes out in his deep voice and it makes me slide my greedy lips to his ears.

"I want my ankles wrapped around your neck as you fuck me." I whisper to him and I feel his torso jerk in reaction to my words.

"Ciel" he grabs my propped up hand by the wrist and shakes me off of him "we can't..."

I rest my forehead against his. Our skin practically merges together, our noses touch and our eyes stare into one another. I'm breathing hard and he's panting like he wants it. I'm a man, I know what that look in his eyes is asking for. Neither of us can deny the obvious attraction we have for each other and I'd rather die than not act out on it. I know what he's feeling but I want to confirm it.

I remove my face from his and stare at him as I jerk my hand away from his harsh grip. I place my palm against his chest and my eyes become lidded and full of lust as I move lower, as I feel him. I drag my hand across his body, passing his clothed naval and he closes his eyes right before I get to the hem of his pants.

He looks stunning, beautiful. With his eyes shut tight I nudge his jaw with my lips and coax him into showing me those gorgeous orbs. I'm not sure why I'm being so gentle, this is all new to me.

Both eyes slowly open and it takes my breath away. I am still paused, right at the base of where his cock would rest if I were to press down on it. I lose my entire composure and whisper onto his lips.

"Please, I want it..." my voice shakes and I am in complete shock at how I'm acting. "I withheld from sex as you asked...so reward me."

I am not me. I'm someone else. Someone who is begging for another for the first time in history. I want to kiss him but I don't want to scare him away so my lips move a few inches back.

I take in the sight of him for the millionth time - he's losing himself as well. His pale face is flushed red, his lips are plump and moist and he can't control his breathing and I almost come when he does something so incomprehensibly dangerous - he moves his hips.

That small nudging of his waist slightly brushes my hovering hand onto his erection. Onto...his...

He has an erection.

He's...my...I don't know what to do. I only felt the base of it, it was thick and as hard as a diamond. I retract my hand as if I've touched fire and my lips part when he leans his head back against the door and sticks his hips out yet _again_ , nudging my hand.

He's completely disheveled. His eyes have rolled back to stare at the ceiling and he would hyperventilate if he breathed any faster. I have to take control of this situation or neither of us will be pleased.

"Tell me you want me to touch you." I rub circles into his slender hips with my thumb and tap his chin with the index finger of my other hand. "Because I won't unless you do."

He says nothing, he makes no eye contact but man does he squirm. He doesn't know what to do. I've had enough - I'm going to give him what he wants.

"Ssst-" he hisses through clenched teeth when I press my entire body onto him.

My jaw falls open and I breathe out because I can now feel his arousal on top of my own. He's so long that I can feel the stiff mound jamming into my thigh. No wonder he looks out of it, all of the blood in his brain is being used to make this virginal pillar of flesh as rigid as humanly possible.

My arms wrap around his neck and I start to slowly roll my hips into his. I gently grind our erections together and he starts to breathe out soft grunts. I've never participated in foreplay like this. I absolutely love it, I don't even care that I'm ruining my expensive suit by doing this. I'd ruin a thousand for him.

"My god..." I whisper and whine into his neck before my legs begin to feel weak. What is this? Maybe I  _am_  getting sick.

"What's wrong..." he whispers and finally places his hands on me by grasping my hip. His willful touch sends me reeling into my pleasure zone and I moan slightly loud as a reply. Even I don't know what's gotten into me. I feel like I'm about to explode.

My legs give out and I slowly slide down his body and groan as his stiff cock slides past my waist, nudges into my vest, and then shifts my tie as I finally fall to my knees.

I look up at him and then back down to his hips, my hands now resting on his thighs. My fingers hook under the hem of his pants and I come face-to-face with the massive bulge of my dreams. My mouth falls open yet again and my bottom lip nudges the beast that's being so wrongfully caged.

He moans and it kills me it's just that beautiful.

My blue eyes roll up and I see his head fall forward so he can look at me. He licks his lips and tries to calm his erratic breathing because I know that he's aware of what's going to happen next. This is my first time, too, after all.

My breath is hot as it slides over his cock and I can feel it twitch as we continue to stare at one another. The tension is as thick as what I'm about to devour and I break the silence with one final request.

"Feed it to me."

..


	8. Chapter 8

 

" _Fuck my tailor_."

* * *

I'm on my knees all in black, beautifully dressed – but not as beautiful as what I'm witnessing with my own eyes at this very moment.

My therapist's large hands scratch against both sides of the wall and when I ask him to stuff his dick into my mouth he slams the back of his head against the door, breathes out, and closes his eyes. His facial expression is like a work of art I want to capture it and frame it and hang it above my bed so it can watch over me as I fucking sleep.

"Feed it to me, doctor, come on" my bottom lip softly nudges the rigid tent as I whisper my words once again.

To my surprise, he's growing even more aroused. My eyes tear away from the beauty of his face and roll down to focus on the hard mound in front of me. My mind is just losing it, it's as if it's only us two left on this Earth and our sole single purpose in life is to fuck each other until our bodies lose all composition and form. That's how hard I want him to pound into me - until I feel like I've been fucked into oblivion itself.

He's still unable to answer so I stick out my tongue and press it against the heavy cock, wrapping my lips around the thickness of the shaft. I bite it slightly and then retract my mouth from it when he gasps out a moan. He moans so fucking often, the sound practically fucks my ears and penetrates through me I don't know how much longer I can take it.

"C-Ciel, ah, please..."

His chest is rising and falling and he swallows after he speaks these cryptic words. Please what? Please stop, please go on, please turn around and let me squeeze my fat fucking dick into your warm tight hole? What? Which is it?!

I watch in shock as long pale fingers drift shakily onto the hem of his own trousers. It completely shuts my thoughts up. Oh...

Oh god.

I inwardly smile like a moronic child unwrapping a Christmas gift as I see him fumble with the button of his pants. I guess he meant 'Please let me fuck your mouth until there's not a drop left in me'. You don't have to say please for that, my sweet virgin. I'm more than willing.

"I...don't...rgh." He hesitates by pausing his motions and it kills me to hear the uncertainty in his voice.

"It's okay." I coo softly, trying to calm him. I look up and our eyes magnetize towards one another. My right palm traverses up firm thighs, passes the thick ridge of his cock and firmly grasps onto his trembling hand. His radiant orbs are lidded and can't look away from mine - the feeling is completely mutual.

I lace our fingers together and then lift his hand, bringing it towards my lips.

"Just relax." I kiss the tip of his index finger and our eyes detach when I close my own and slide the digit into my mouth. My tongue drags across the underside of the finger and I don't stop until I reach his knuckle. The flavor of his flesh seeps through my taste buds and makes my dick stand at full attention. It hurts so fucking good that as I slowly suck up and down the extremity I take my free hand and grab my erection, hastily rubbing myself through the cloth of my expensive pants.

"Mm, fu-" he breathes out but never curses.

I feel his finger push slightly into me, and I know he's watching me. I can feel the heat of his gaze burning into me - it literally raises my temperature. It's so fucking hot in here that I remove my hands from their current jobs and start to unbutton my jacket.

My mouth hangs open and I bob my head up and down the digit, curling my tongue between his middle finger and beckoning it to join his other. I swallow it until the back of my throat is prodded into and I moan when I hear him hiss because yes, I have no gag reflex - yes, I could be slobbering all over your cock right now, yes – I want only you inside of me. The moment I throw my jacket to the side I feel him fuse his two digits together and shyly press the pair onto my waiting tongue. He's so curious, I can't wait until he explores my inner most cavity.

My slender fingers expertly remove my cufflinks and I let them plop down onto the floor by my knees, uncaring of their importance. I unfasten each button to my silk vest as I continue to roll my tongue between both of his digits, slathering them with my saliva and absorbing his taste. After I shake the garment off I can almost hear my tailor gasp in fright as I rip the silk slightly when I hurl it towards the other side of the room. Fuck my tailor.

I glance up at my therapist and he looks like the most radiant human I've ever encountered. He's not even looking at me he's staring right at my mouth, at his own fingers that are pushing into me. If you would only know the euphoria that you're about to feel, god it makes my cock ache.

I slide my head back and pop the fingers out of my mouth with a soft kiss placed right at the tips. Yes I'm gentle but it's because he deserves it, look at him, he's like a docile beast who can attack at any second. I can't scare him off, my goal is for him to snap and throw me around like a rag doll as he fucks me in every position known throughout the entire animal kingdom.

Right when I've unfastened the final button to my black dress shirt I slip my tie from my neck and then let the fabric slide past my naked shoulders.

"Wait" his voice is deep as he strangely bends down and grabs both sides of my shirt, wrapping me tight within the cloth, shielding his eyes from viewing my skin.

"What is it?" I whisper and lick the side of my mouth, my eyes dancing with excitement. My question requires no answer, though, as I know precisely what it is.

He'll lose it if he sees my exposed flesh. He'll attack me. He'll fuck me. And as much as I want that to happen, I respect his silent request and give him an ultimatum. Before I can get a word out I see his breathtaking set of lips part.

"I've been…thinking about you." He innocently confesses and it stops my heart.

"So, what do you think?"

Breathing out a soft laugh he swallows and then shakily replies "You confuse me".

"You won't be confused after today," I whisper and tug at his shirt, focusing on more important tasks "If you don't want me taking off my shirt then remove yours."

As I regretfully button my shirt back up, he immediately removes that god awful sweater vest and pulls his dress shirt over his head like a child. It's adorable the way his dark strands of hair stick up for a split second as he removes the cloth, but all thoughts of 'cute' and 'adorable' are quickly blasted away and blown into the vast outreaches of space when I see that gorgeous fucking body.

"Fuck" I breathe and push him back against the door with both of my palms flat on his abdomen. I can feel his muscles as I grope him, I can feel his hot flesh and smell him even more. I'm at a loss for words for how exquisite this man's body is.

I widen my knees, my unkempt and wrongly buttoned shirt revealing only my neck and some of my collar bone. When I look up at him I catch him staring at my skin and his cheeks are flushed with embarrassment.

"We shouldn't be d-doing this." He combs his hair with his digits and attempts to decipher the blatant lie that he just told. There hasn't been one facial expression of his that hasn't turned me on – they all do, it's a sick infatuation that I'm just now realizing.

"Don't say such things," I press my mouth onto his torso and look up at him as my left hand grabs his long digits, "just hold my hand".

"What...are you going to do?"

"I'm going to milk you," I place a soft kiss below his naval, his skin singeing my lips as I look back up at him, "with my mouth".

He laces our digits together and almost breaks my delicate fingers when he hears my words. The jolt of pain in my hand causes me to attack his flesh and I open my mouth to violently kiss and suck every patch of skin I can reach.

My hot tongue drags across his hipbone and I can smell that powerhouse of sex that is mere seconds away from being squeezed by my needy throat. My anticipation swells when I use my free hand to pop the button of his trousers from its place and slowly unzip him. My index and middle fingers part, separating the fabric and exposing the black cotton of his boxers. As my hand is being constricted I tug on the cloth just a bit until I see a light dusting of coarse hair.

I can't help it, I moan and remove my hand from his pants to grab onto my stiff erection. I swirl my tongue around my new found discovery and breathe hotly over the flesh as I try so desperately to alleviate the pain in my dick. I need to be filled with him and then drained of everything I've been saving up for my entire fucking life, because I now know that he must be the man I've been searching for this whole time.

I'm breathing so hard - lapping up that musky flavor, swallowing it, consuming it, and replacing it with my own scent. He's feeding me and he doesn't even know it. My tongue slips under his boxers and that's when the start of one of the most memorable moments in my life happens.

"Ugh, god, Ciel." My therapist grunts and starts to move his hips forward and back, lightly thrusting his body onto my tongue and practically screaming at me to rip off his clothes. His ass clashes against the wooden door causing it to shake within its frame as he gets rougher with his motions.

I decide right then and there that I'm about to burst. My jaw widens as far as it can go and I harshly suck my way down, shoving the boxers with my cheek as I feel the base of his dick slide across my tongue. I moan so damn loud and then detach our held hands to rip the shirt I'm wearing clear off of me. Buttons pop off and shoot into who knows where, and when my bare skin is exposed I finally taste the tiniest, hottest, sweetest patch of flesh I've ever sampled in my entire life.

That taste doesn't last long.

With a guttural moan my disheveled virgin tears at my arm with such force that it jerks my entire body upwards, ripping my mouth from the base of that wide cock and causing a pained yelp to slip past my lips. I admit I'm agitated that I didn't even get to see that swollen rod of flesh.

"Agh, fuck." I grunt when he wraps his free hand around my other wrist and pulls me up, lifting me from my knees and forcing me to loop my arms around his neck. The sharp pain subsides when I realize that our faces are now parallel to one another and our naked torsos are within inches of meeting for the first time.

His mouth is open, his moist lips are parted beautifully as he breathes in and out and his hair messily frames his flawless, blushing face. He swallows in between a breath and his scarlet eyes fall to my bare chest and then to my hips. He seems out of it, as if all this foreplay has caused a distortion within his thought process and he doesn't even know how to act. I remove my arms from around his neck and grab his hands, placing them on my chest.

I lift my chin and bite my lip at his touch. His fingers fan out and the heat that I feel from them forces me to close my eyes. It feels that fucking amazing. He slides them slowly down my chest, and he makes this fucking noise that's like a half-moan and a half whine and it causes my breath to hitch and my torso to tremble. Before I can open my eyes, my euphoria is heightened and taken to a completely different level.

His arms wrap around my waist and he forcefully fuses our bodies together, slamming skin on skin and immediately after - lips on lips.

He kisses me and something within me feels like I am going to scream and cry and laugh all at the same time. The feeling I get when his mouth meets my own is an elation like none other. Our bodies stumble backwards, our chests merge, our erections press into one another and our tongues finally join in this fucking eruption of pleasure.

We loudly suckle and slurp, we gasp and pant and moan. Our fingers squeeze and grope and slide over every inch of each other. He grunts in this deep way that rattles my throat and all I can do is widen my jaw even more so I can taste every part of him. Our mixture of saliva creates this fuel that energizes us both and excites us to impossible measures.

He tastes strong and powerful and I can feel my legs getting weaker by the second. His burning hands embrace me, one resting on the small of my back while the other clenches onto the back of my head. Our bodies meander around the room, following the flow of our mouths and the direction of our intense connection. We roll onto walls and clumsily crash into furniture but keep going because we need to feel how much heat our throats can actually take.

Our lips smack and I realize that I've finally backed him into his desk. My eyes crack open and I gasp when he forcefully positions my hips and laces our thighs together. His mouth slides off of mine and he starts to drag his tongue over the entire expanse of my neck. The room is becoming foggy and my breath is getting rough. My neck cranes backward and he samples me like he's done this a million times.

"Mmm..ah!" I fucking yelp like a woman, I'm not afraid to say it, when he bites my shoulder softly and laps at it. I feel heat rush to my face and I moan again because I can't fucking help it. I've never once in the history of my existence experienced pleasure like this. I thought he was a virgin? How could he possibly be this good – how could he completely tear me apart and bring me to pieces like this? Me, Ciel fucking Phantomhive – a moaning, blushing mess, nice to fucking meet you.

I nudge my nose into his temple and breathe hotly into his ear "more" I plead - no, I beg because I just want it that fucking bad.

He moves lower, licking my collarbone and kissing my skin in the most sensual way possible. I feel like I'm dying and being reborn because this man is treating me like no one else could ever imagine. I'm so lost in his gentle movements that I just look down and watch his perfect mouth slide all over my body. I watch as his tongue peeks out between flush lips and suckles on my skin, the way his eyes carefully watch what he is doing, the sheen trail of saliva that he leaves as he licks over the rampant thumping of my heart.

"More, more." I pant like a virgin and my pelvis begins to move almost uncontrollably, dragging it up and down his thigh, right above his knee.

His tongue rolls down my chest and onto my left nipple and I fucking lose it – I honestly feel like I'm on the verge of a blackout. My hips jerk as I knead my dick into his leg and my fingers grip into his shoulders.

"Mmmfuck - fuck!" I know, I'm loud and vocal and out of control but I can't help it. He drags his tongue up and down over my pert, reddened nub and I'm rocking my body into his, squeezing his enormous dick with my inner thigh as I grind into him like my fucking life depends on it.

My hands slide down to his firm biceps and I grope them. It makes me hornier so I pant harder and harder. I feel a hot hand press against my chest and curiously slide down my abdomen as he kisses away.

My head suddenly jerks back, my body shakes and I gasp as if drowning when I feel his fingers fumble with my buckle. My neck snaps forward when he fucking gets down on one knee and whips the leather belt right off of me, hurling it towards the window with a loud clattering of metal against glass. This sudden change of pace has me in shock and everything is just happening so fucking fast that I can't put two and two together.

One touch. That's all it took and I finally succumb to one of the most unfortunate, most degrading experiences of my lifetime.

His hand merely brushes against my erection and this sensation explodes within me. I look at his handsome face, the sweat on his neck, his perfect jaw line and his pale skin and my heart begins to beat so fast that I feel like it's going to implode. When his lips softly kiss the skin right below my naval I scream.

"N-no! No, no, FUCK!" I gasp and moan so loud that I swear the windows rattle. My jaw clenches and then releases, my mouth falling open, soundless. My breath cuts off, my lungs empty of all traces of carbon dioxide. I shake and tense every muscle in my body. My hand grips onto my dick and I squeeze it so fucking hard that it hurts. I release this long languid groan that escapes from deep within me and my eyes shut tight because I realize what just happened.

Both of us are there in the now silent room panting, saying nothing. He gently touches my upper arm as he remains on one knee and all I can do is look at my dress shoes.

"A-are you okay?" he breathes out, concern in his voice.

I can't stand to look at him. This blanket of shame envelopes me and I swallow dryly. I just experienced the most bizarre phenomena known to mankind and I have to admit that I am being bombarded with a slew of foreign emotions.

My head hangs low, my hair unraveling from its place and falling over my eyes as I take a single step backwards. My brain is desperately trying to piece together what just happened and I slowly release the grip on my dick with a small hiss escaping my lips. In shock, it hits me like a ton of bricks.

I just had the best orgasm of my entire life and I'm still wearing pants.

..

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

  
_"...disturbing my descent into hysterical displeasure._ "

* * *

Like a prostitute who just got paid I scramble around the room as quickly as possible and gather my completely ruined dress shirt and strewn coat.

"Ciel, I - I'm so sorry, I didn't mean t-"

"Shut up!" I cut off my therapist's speech as he remains knelt on the floor "don't talk to me, don't look at me - I'm leaving!"

My shaky arms slide through the black fabric of my shirt and I sloppily button it up - what's left of the buttons at least. As I tuck it into my pants I feel my cock shift, spreading the now cooling cum all over my inner thigh. I shiver. The disgust I have for myself at this very instant is so unwanted, so foreign and so completely new to me that I am not even sure how to handle it. I've never been so embarrassed in my entire life.

I'd rather have my family walk in on me getting gang-raped by ten vintage bottles of Merlot than experience this again.

I don't even know what I'm doing. My thoughts incoherently race as my coat is put on, and when I hear the German shift in position and walk towards me I turn on my heel and glare right at him.

"Leave me alone! Don't come any closer, don't fucking say ONE word or I'll...I'll." I don't know what I'd do. I don't even know what I'm trying to convey to this handsome...tall... _shirtless_  man before me. Ugh, god that face of his is like - NO. No, I have to stop this. I can't give in to those stupid virgin eyes, those firm virgin muscles...

That shapely virgin cock.

"Fuck you!" I blurt out, mostly directed at myself, and point right at him "don't you dare follow me".

Flattening out my coat I give the man my back and walk towards the door. As I wrap my fingers around the cool brass of the doorknob, I take a breath and speak to the wall in front of me.

"You're fired. I won't be coming back."

"W-wait, Ciel, please..." his voice is abruptly cut off by me shutting the door and I stumble into the hallway but quickly regain my balance and pick up speed.

I look to my left and then to my right as each office is passed. When I get to reception I notice that there is no one around. When I glance at the abandoned computer on the mutant's desk there is a tiny sign that reads 'out to lunch'. I suppose it's her time to feed.

If only I wasn't so childishly moronic, I too would be feasting on an enormous slab of tender, moistened meat. Cut just right, or maybe uncut, it doesn't matter to me. Flavored with just the perfect amount of hearty, well-rounded spices and accompanied by a warm, succulent glaze that glides off of the plump, fattened portion of flesh. Mmm. It's so delectable...

"Ciel, wait!"

My eyes widen when I hear my therapist's desperate voice and I snap myself out of my sexy-food thoughts and immediately bolt out of the office like I was being chased by a madman.

I frantically run down the main hallway until I start to see people from other offices within the building walking about, disturbing my descent into hysterical displeasure. Almost bumping into some female, I gather myself and attempt to calmly saunter my way over to the elevator, passing and ignoring her entire existence. She eyes me up and down as I turn to press the call button and she gives me a wink while parting her whorish lips.

I mash the button like it owes me money and my blue eyes light up joyously when the steel doors slide open right as she is approaching me to talk to me or try to suck my dick or do whatever the hell it is women do.

I'm saved.

Repeatedly I fuck the the lobby button with my index finger until I am safely trapped within the confines of the cab. A part of me wants to flick the emergency switch so I can have some time to collect my thoughts, but the sticky mess adhering to my thigh is telling me to clean up before I attract more bitches in heat.

I eject from the opening doors as if I'm being followed and I do this suspicious run-walk to the nearest facilities. The softer my dick gets, the more excess fluids seep out of the tip and dribble on to my leg and my balls and my underwear and my black Italian wool-lined dress pants and fuck! Smearing on to my fucking sanity, my tainted pride, my entire sexual history and just fucking it all up, tarnishing every single ounce of arrogance I've ever held dear to my cold, callous heart. Premature ejaculation are you fucking kidding me, how old am I? That bastard...

Uncaring of people less fortunate than I, the flimsy metal doors rattle when I practically kick down the handicap stall and then slam the door shut, locking it. No one is around so I audibly cuss as I realize my belt is still in his office. That careless animal chucked my vintage stitched genuine leather double-pronged brass-buckled motherfucking BELT onto a window like it was rendered completely worthless! WHAT THE FUCK.

The sole of my shoe crashes with the side of the stall wall and I kick it so hard that it dents. The loud crumpling thunk echoes throughout the bathroom and not a second later I hear someone come in.

The squeak of the swinging door makes me leap onto the closed toilet and crouch down, hugging my legs because I don't even know what I'm doing. As I bury my nose into my knees I roll my eyes upwards to see old black dress shoes stop right in front of my stall.

"Ciel...you're in there? Can I come in?"

How the hell does he know it's me? Cumtrail?

"No, go away - get away from me!" I whisper-yell as authoritatively as I can "you're not my therapist anymore, leave me alone-"

The shoes that I'm speaking to...they disappear.

"Ahh!" I scream and my ass falls back onto the toilet and my legs spread clumsily into the air as I watch my therapist leap over the stall door in one fluid, cat-like motion.

He gracefully plops down onto the tile floor and I notice that he lacks the ability to dress himself for the millionth time since he is clad only in his black sweater vest, apparently foregoing the simple task of putting his dress shirt on. Pale arms and a long neck are sticking out of the cheap patterned cloth in such an embarrassing way, it's ridiculous. I know he probably fumbled around the room to catch up to me but he looks completely insane and I can't decide whether to wince or burst out in laughter.

"Hah...Ciel...please don't run away from me." He is panting and my eyes soon lock on to his right hand, which is holding my belt "y-you forgot this". He extends his arm and gives me this puppy-dog stare that makes me want to die even more.

"Get the fuck out of here!" I scream hysterically, "what do you do on your free time, just scale buildings and bathrooms? I'm in here you jerk, give me my privacy!"

"I know, but..." god his voice is so deep and smooth it makes my insides squirm with every stupid word he says "we were just...kissing, and you ran away and...I don't want you to be mad at me. And you forgot this," he jiggles the leather strap again as if baiting me "here".

My face fluctuates in temperature at this buffoons innocent words. Does he not understand what happened? Is he really that stupid? Are the words 'Unfuckable' not plastered against my forehead? Kissing? No honey, we were prepping for a wild fuck that I had to ruin. ME. I ruined everything!

I cautiously arise from my porcelain throne and walk right up to him. He takes a guarded step back and I snatch the belt from his grasp like a little monkey who loves his vintage leather. Letting the fine belt unravel, I hoist my arm up and grit my teeth as I speak.

"Get out of my sight before I whip the innocence right off your face."

His Adam's apple moves under smooth, flawless flesh as he swallows and a small frown traces his lips. "Did I...hurt you in some way? I'm sorry if I did, I didn't mean to".

"Yeah, I'm aching all over." I snap the belt against the tile and it makes a loud cracking sound, eliciting a small flinch from my dim-witted therapist. It's not even that he's dumb he's just sexy. I mean stupid. Okay not stupid but more like...sweaty. No, wait. Agh god his throat is making me all confused I don't even know what I'm doing but there's semen running down my leg and now I'm starting to get hard just because he's a foot away from me and I think I might be having the first anxiety attack of my life.

He reaches forward as I distract myself with myself and wraps his slender fingers over my raised wrist - immediately causing me to drop the belt as if it was set aflame.

"Violence isn't the best way to convey a message." His eyes stare into mine and his touch makes my breath hitch as he speaks gently, almost at a whisper.

"You were pretty violent in your office, Michaelis, what with the way you were roughing me up." Yeah, take that. Take it and shove it down your fucking...your...throat...or...

Damn...

This hot blush just overtakes his cheeks and he shifts his eyes to the side in shame. The expression stabs me in the heart and twists at my insides it's just that fucking gorgeous. His beautiful black locks are messy from our session and he takes a single finger and tucks some of the strewn hair behind his ear. His handsome face is revealed as it searches for an escape but all he can do is release my hand and clear his throat.

"You're right, I apologize. I didn't mean to do what I did. It was reckless and uncalled for. I'm a professional, I should have known better..." Wait a minute, no. He turns around and slides the lock to the door as I stand there trying to find a way to keep him from leaving, or rather a way for me to speak. He can't just go like that, he can't just abide by my words or follow my orders to leave me be like some obedient fucking dog. Why are you listening to me? How dare you do what I say!

"I understand if you seek therapy elsewhere. Good luck in your search, and you can call the front desk to request a reccomenda-tion." The last part of his sentence wavers as he walks out and I am left only in his breathtakingly scented trail as I brace myself against the frame of the door and watch him walk away.

Fuck. Fuck this, fuck my existence.

I'm angry at myself and at the situation so I go back to the comfort of my piss-stall and shut the door as hard as I can. I remove my pants and my underwear and let them fall to the floor. The potency of his last words are so effective that my dick has probably withered up and fallen off, or so it seems because I'd rather not even possess such an instrument of torture if it is the cause of the downfall of my sex-life.

The toilet paper roll almost blasts off the holder as I wad up as much cheap single-ply as I can. I catch the strewn fluid that is sticking to my leg and clean myself up. I'm pissed off and embarrassed beyond comprehension and I slam the wadded up mess onto the tile wall. It sticks in place and I scowl at myself because I feel disgusting. I feel like shit, and like I'm slipping away from myself.

I prop my back up against the metal partition as I shuffle my shame up to my waist and button it all into place. My hand slides over my face as my back slides down the wall and I slump onto the ground with my head in my hands.

I've lusted over sex, who hasn't, but never over a single man. This isn't lust it's need. I just lost my chance at possessing the one thing I need and to show my face in front of him would just tear me up inside. The tile floor I sit on is dirty and tainted so I fall over and lie down to become one with it - it's what I've amounted to.

* * *

Fourteen days and just as many nights have passed since I last laid eyes on one Doctor Michaelis. His name has been permanently imprinted into my thoughts and I have fallen ill for him, my ailments require only his presence but to see him once more is absolutely impossible. Ending my sessions I've not returned to that building but have instead stood prisoner within my own chamber, spending my days and nights thinking only of him.

Tonight, though, I am unwillingly forced to go out.

Frills of satin and lace twirl beautifully as I do nothing but think of the man. Music softly creeps its way into my ears but I notice no notes or rhythm or harmony due to the deafening pounding within my chest which aches so loud that it has driven me to a point of minor insanity.

"Quit slouching, Ciel." My father elbows me gently in the ribs as we stand shoulder to shoulder in the vast ballroom of my parent's country-side estate. A lavish party plays before us and everyone who is anyone in our business is in attendance. Fine wine is flowing, a chamber orchestra is playing - and most importantly, contacts, deals and money are being made.

Night has befallen the extravagant festivities and the people are becoming more talkative as the alcohol seeps through their engorged, gluttonous pores. As I shift in my all-black tux my lips curl slightly at the sight of the tightly-knit crowds which eye us at every chance they procure. They steal glances almost as often as they steal our money with these pointless, pretentious gatherings, yet I cannot bring myself to outwardly project my distaste for them in favor of my family's reputation.

As father and son and hosts of the event we stand with humility and respect and it is our job to make sure the night ends in our favor financially, as well as socially.

"I'm not slouching, father," I whisper, "I'm merely standing as any human would in this condition".

"Don't stand as any human," he spits calmly and then whacks my lower back with a stiff palm, "stand as a superior".

"And just what condition would that be, Phantomhive?" A weightless hand plops on to my shoulder and slides down my chest from behind, all while I watch my father abandon me when he notices the snake impede on our hosting duties.

"Get your vile, putrid claws off of me." I bite back and try to walk forward but I am stopped as the most filthy, disgusting creature slithers his way in front of my path.

He is the heir to a famous French winery that was obtained with money, not labor and his father is merely a sick, materialistic, non-ethical businessman from the city. Unfortunately I have known this marauding, slimy individual since I attended college years and years ago.

My sleepless eyes drag from his dark brown boots to his narrow black slacks and then up the length of his burgundy, cheap velvet double-breasted tuxedo jacket. Regretfully I lift my chin and narrow my heavy eyes when I see his deranged expression of arrogance.

Alois Trancy - the bane of my existence.

If he were rendered a mute and lost all nerves in his face, or maybe beaten until handicapped or lost his sight or limbs or any other tragedy that would make him meek - I admit that he would be good looking. Not handsome, but _just_  good looking. He's only a shade darker than I, which means he is completely pale. His eyes are a light blue and he has blonde hair up to his chin, just below his plump, malevolent mouth that seems to never close. He is one year my senior and I despise him more than every person in this palace put together.

"My, you look quite dashing today." He chuckles and flutters his eyes towards the large balcony to our left "but you look so...what's the word. Pathetic. Like a drowned puppy. You have bags under your pretty little eyes." He frowns, "Have you lost weight? Come on, let's go have a smoke, hm?"

A smoke. Fresh night air. The lack of people. It's all so tempting. But with him it's hellish torture so I flatten my black tie and clear my throat.

"I decline, Trancy. Go roll around in the mud with the rest of your kind-"

Before I know it he takes my wrist and leads me through a small crowd and past the large double-glass doors. The summer air is hot even though the sun has set, and we move to a secluded corner next to the ornate wrought-iron enclosure that wraps around the large, circular balcony.

"You're such a prude when you're with your father." He releases my wrist and lifts a silver case out of his breast pocket. Opening it, he offers me a smoke and I delicately lift one from its place. After I light my own cigarette he bites his tongue and stupidly looks off into the distance as he digs around in his pocket once again.

"Care for a bump?" A small cylinder device fumbles between his digits and he taps the bottom of it onto the crest of his left hand, between his thumb and index finger. Pure white powder sifts out of it and he looks around before sucking the small mound into his nose.

"Can you refrain from bringing your cheap drugs to my parent's engagements, please."

The man closes his eyes and breathes deeply in his momentary euphoria. When he relaxes he eyes me annoyingly and chuckles some more.

"Stop putting on airs. You'd have to be high to attend these stupid parties so often. Speak normally when we're alone - it makes me uncomfortable."

"Fine" I snarl and release rich smoke from my lips, "get the fuck out of my house and don't come back."

"Oh, Ciel. What is it - you look like a depressed teenager, have you fucked only twenty men this week instead of your usual thirty?"

"Hardly" a pang in my chest makes me think of my therapist so I look away. "I haven't fucked much of anything lately".

Maybe I needed someone to talk to. Maybe I needed this faux camaraderie, I don't know, but I said those words without thinking. They were not lies, either, the last time I even orgasmed was in the German's office. My thirst for sex withered away along with my self-worth the very day that I made a fool of myself in front of the most beautiful man in existence.

"Are you... _joking_?" he wipes his nose with his burgundy sleeve and sniffs into the warm air. "Come here, let me show you something".

He turns around and leans his back lazily on the iron railing, flicking his lips to the party within. I turn around and we stare at the guests when he suddenly points to a large man.

"See that guy - the big one? He works out, he's a bodybuilder," he licks his lips and groans "his dick is the size of a fucking washing machine, down to his knees almost - whaddya say?"

"Disgusting" I prop my elbow on the railing and let the ash from my cigarette fall onto the lush garden down below, "why would I want a dick that grotesquely large, does it look like I want to be ripped in half?"

He rolls his coked-out eyes and then points again "that one, the blonde. He has a pierced dick. All up and down his shaft..."

"That doesn't appeal to me in the slightest. Try again."

"Okay, okay...THAT guy, the one serving drinks, the waiter. He just fucked me last week. He's decent, likes to tie you up. I can hook you two up so you won't be so down" he frowns sarcastically.

"I don't like being tied up." I sigh and take another drag.

"Tch, since when have you been so picky? You'll fuck anything that's good-looking and has a dick."

"I'm leaving, I can't be around you for too long." I flick my butt over the railing and start walking away, completely careless of this moron's presence.

"Ah, ah! Wait!" he grabs my elbow and pulls me back. Pointing like a madman and moving his index finger in a circle "that guy, the tall guy, he's hot right?"

My eyes fall onto the male he speaks of and my heart almost sinks because he has the same shape as my now ex-therapist. The man is tall and thin, his hair is black and cut a little neater than the German's. This guy's face, though, does nothing for me. He is good looking I admit, but...it's just not the face I want hovering over me as I spread myself open.

"Like what you see, huh," he giggles, "he fucked me about a year ago. Average dick, average moves, but he's really gentle. Well, to an extent. He's gentle during sex but then gets super clingy afterwards. Maybe he's changed, who knows..."

"Gentle, huh..." my womanly side exposes itself and I quickly compose my inane thoughts, "who is he?"

"No one important, caretaker for some local vineyard, a nobody. But a hot nobody, right?" That maniacal laughter of his hisses down my spine and he squeezes my elbow. "Come on, I'll introduce you".

Before I know it the snake is dragging me through the glass doors. As we step in to the cool ballroom, I snap my elbow out of the grasp of his clammy hand and adjust my tie. I'm not too sure what I'm doing. My need for sex has been overshadowed by my need for Michaelis, yet he has now left my world completely. He held no attraction for me, he was merely experimenting. I was a test gone awry and I ruined everything we could of had. If I sleep with someone then it will be the first step to overcome all of this intrusive pain I've been feeling.

Right?

"Hey!" Alois cheerfully squeals and then grabs the man's hand, "you remember me, right? Ha! I want you to meet someone..."

I can now see his features and all I can think is 'boring'. Sure he may be attractive but he's missing so much. I place my hand over my abdomen in respect, as this is my house.

"Ciel Phantomhive, nice meeting you."

The guy blatantly checks me out and I feel like my old self again. My old self with an enormous weight on my back. His eyes fall to the curve of my ass and I know the deal is unfortunately already made before I even catch his name.

"The pleasure is all mine. I've always wanted to meet you." He steps closer, detaching himself from Trancy to hold my bicep before leaning over and whispering in my ear.

"I want to know if you taste as fine as your wines do."

My chin lifts and my heavy eyes slide to a retreating Alois. He winks at me and then waves his hand before skipping away, his palm stuck in his pocket in anticipation of powdering his nose yet again.

"Is that right?" I whisper with no emotion whatsoever. My tongue feels thick and the sides of my mouth fall into a hopeless frown that he can't see, "do you want...to find out?"

He smells like nothing. He probably tastes like nothing and fucks like nothing. The spark I would usually feel from knowing I was about to get laid has dwindled into a cold, lifeless flame. I don't even want to be touched, I feel sick. I feel ill with guilt.

But I know I need this.

"Can we go to the kitchen, maybe, and you can show me?" He lets out a snort from his ugly nose and lifts a brow in arrogance. "I think you'd be perfect for my pallet".

The cheap, nonsensical lines he stuffs into my ears make me want to vomit but I haven't eaten in almost a week so I would have nothing to throw up anyway. I back away from him and stare past him, into nothing in particular. "I would never disrespect my parent's house in that manner." I chide as my eyes roll to meet his.

They're grey. And ugly to me.

"I'm leaving now, as I have business to attend." I really don't, but I simply can't be in his presence a moment longer. I stick my hand into the inside of my breast pocket and pull out a card. It's subtle white coloring floats below the dark black type and my two fingers place it gracefully into his pocket.

"That is the number of my assistant. Call him to obtain my address. I'll see you in about two hours."

His borderline retarded expression makes me second guess what I just did. We share no words but I steal one glance and it makes me want to turn him around and kick him in the testicles.

"Uh...but don't you live in the city?"

"You're quit observant, yes I do."

"So, it's going to take me about an hour to get there...which means I have to leave the party in an hour."

"My, my, look at you - you can even do math," my tired eyes roll and I pass him, "come or don't come, the choice is yours. I could care less."

And with that I leave the room. My assistant watches over me and can tell when I start heading towards the doors that my time here is up. I move swiftly past the enormous foyer and head outside, not bothering to let anyone know of my departure. My hair brushes by my ears as I step outside and I close my eyes as the hot night air suffocates me. While my car is being pulled around, I loosen my tie, unraveling the knot as I remove my coat.

I will regret whatever happens tonight, I just know it.

* * *

As we drive up to my estate I watch as the large iron gates separate to allow entry. Slow rolling tires crunch against the cobblestone driveway and the vehicle comes to a soft stop right in front of my door. I eye my driver as he circles the car to let me out. I feel tired, I feel a wretched pain within me. I feel too sober for the night, and that needs to be fixed.

Warm air hits my face when the heavy door is opened for me and I step out of the vehicle. I run fingers through my hair and sigh. It is the summer of my discontent and the atmosphere is thick and humid and pierces into me with every breath I inhale.

"Leave the gate open, as I am expecting a visitor." I tell my assistant with a wave of my hand, only slightly annoyed.

"Oh and before you leave, please bring three bottles of red from the cellar, I don't care which. You can leave them in the kitchen."

He nods and I turn around to traverse the twenty-two steps to the top of my chamber. The door is heavy as it opens and I sigh at the unchanging environment within my house. My body aches and I feel tired. I feel no anticipation for tonight's events.

..

Steam wisps away from my skin as I rise from a hot bath and dry myself off. I wrap a blood-red silken robe over my naked body and glance at my pale skin in the mirror as I pass it. I do look horrible. I've lost weight, I haven't exercised, I don't eat. I'm withering away and right now I could care less. The dark circles under my eyes contrast heavily against my bright red lips and my hair looks longer and disheveled as the wet locks stick to my neck and face.

The soft sound of liquid shifting motivates me to avert my gaze as I lift a large goblet from the sink that has been filled with Cabernet about five times since I began my loathsome soak. My parents would kill me if they saw me drinking from such an obscenely large flask, but I care not what they think as I am now warm and neutral and numb.

I'm intoxicated.

I'm intoxicated not only by alcohol but by deep shame and indignity. The permanent frown that traces my moist lips can't help but murmur his name as I attempt to shuffle out of my room.

"Michaelis…" my frail hand grabs the banister for support and my bare feet slap against the hardwood floor of my living room in messy, sporadic thuds.

It is dark as I embrace the night and choose to refrain from living within the reality of light, and hot, seeing that I want to torture myself by not running the air. I place my glass on a side table as my body falls onto the large ornate couch that sits a few yards from my front door. I stare at the entrance with spite as I lift the drink to my lips.

I swallow almost all of it and gurgle out a long sigh.

My thighs separate as my right foot plops onto the floor and my silken robe opens, consequently airing me out. I lean back into the plush cushioning and groan softly. The dark red fabric that rests on my shoulders slips over them completely and I am left looking like I have just been ravaged.

As the abstract concept of time passes right through my fingertips I close my eyes and travel to a far better place. The scene has been replayed millions of times, the sights and smells - the heat from that unforgiving day. He makes me so hard, I can't even wrap my mind around it.

The inside of my upper thigh is soft and warm as I gently move the back of my hand up and down the skin. I open my eyes and take the last of my drink, my thoughts still in the other world where I reside in the rough arms of my therapist.

My flesh is weak. My lack of morals have been questioned for the first time in my life. I would be putty in his hands, I would bend over backwards for him in every literal and figurative sense. I would live on my knees for him if he asked it.

My eyes are as heavy as the heart that beats within my frail chest. These two weeks I have been diminished into nothing, into a drunk, messy shell of a person. And now as I sit here and wait for my suitor I become stupid with wine and enraptured by fantasy.

Tender is the night and numb are my desires. The point in which forgiveness could be reached has long since passed its prime. The death of my virility of my sex - I mourn it like the loss of a loved one. Since when has the folly of man applied to my own machinations, I'm not even sure. He made me human and I despise it. I was cold and and uncaring and self-absorbed and now in two weeks time I am a deteriorating mess on my couch, hounded by the silence of the night.

"..." A sound from beyond my estate causes my eyes to snap open. My silence has been disturbed and it frightens my cloudy mind.

My thin legs fumble as I get up and scramble into the nearby kitchen. I stagger across the enormous expanse of marble floor and slip, falling on my side. The thud that echoes in my ear becomes drowned out with the light tapping I start to hear.

"Who is it?" I say softly to myself with growing suspicion. The wine that flows through my body is making me paranoid as I lay on the cool ground and I remain in place, quiet as a mouse.

I don't want this anymore, I don't crave this stranger's skin. I don't desire his touch or his voice or even his presence.

The tapping turns to knocking and I whine as I crawl onto the lower cabinets and hoist my body into a standing position. Just leave me be, take a hint, read the atmosphere you moron, you ugly, duplicitous man - get away, die!

The knocking increases in volume and I stumble in the dark to the living room. The silk of my robe has now completely slipped off my shoulders and has collected at my elbows, exposing my heaving upper torso. My skin is damp and I'm sweating, trying to regain momentary sobriety as the sound is resonating in my mind like a ticking time bomb.

The large wooden door clatters within its frame as I run to it and clench on to the knob.

"GO AWAY!" I yell so loud that my voice traverses to the other levels of my house and I swallow thickly at the absence of sound.

Until it starts again.

My perspiring temple thuds against the door and I grit my teeth. "I want nothing to do with you! Remove yourself from my property this instant!"

I manically press my ear into the wood and try to hear the sex-crazed psychopath on the other side. When I swallow I taste nothing but wine and it makes me sick. Then, suddenly…I hear his voice. It makes me shudder.

" _Please_ " is all I can make out – a muffled plea, an innocent request but I don't buy it.

My hair is sticking to my forehead and I can feel thin beads of sweat trickling down my neck and sliding past my collar bone. My burgundy robe is almost sliding off of me and I try to lift a sleeve to put it onto my shoulder, only to see it roll right off once again.

More knocking. It's soft and rhythmic and at that very moment I feel my sanity slipping away from me.

"I don't want to fuck you, or touch you, or suck you or kiss you!" I scream again, I can feel my saliva thicken and I let out a guttural cough, "so go away!"

There is no sound once again. My eyes are darting from left to right as I try to hear him, but I hear nothing. I feel dizzy and sick and I shake my head from side to side to keep my consciousness from sleeping. In the dark I can only see shadows and I feel as if my other senses have diminished. I'm breathing hard and sweating and growing more ill with every passing second.

" _We've kissed already_ …"

The voice responds and my heart feels like it has compacted and shriveled into the size of a marble. My eyes widen and I'm confused and intoxicated to the point of hallucination. I must be, because I can't believe what my brain is attempting to process.

Without thinking I slide the two locks from their place and let the heavy door swing open. My eyelids fall and I blink heavily while my shoulder crashes into the frame of the entrance, holding me up as my body has seemed to give out on me. My lips separate and I can feel my robe almost come right off of me, slipping past my hands as my back slides down the soft bumps of the carved wood and land on the cool concrete of my entryway.

"Sebastian..." I breathe out and unwillingly curl into myself, pressing my chin and my knees to my chest to protect the last shred of decency I possess.

The last thing I remember is my therapist falling to his knees and picking me up, the first slur I've ever heard leaving his flawless lips.

..


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Seb POV~

_"It's a nice night for jogging."_

* * *

God.

What have I just done?

My heart is racing, my mind is...also racing, and I can barely walk straight as I stumble out of the men's room and into the exposure of the main hallway.

"Doctor Michaelis!" my head darts to the right and I notice my receptionist with a large container of food in her hand. The aroma of whatever she's carrying is a thief to the scent of my patient who I just now abandoned.

"Uh...hello there." I smile and calmly press the elevator button, although not that calmly, I'm probably frantically pressing it actually. It immediately opens and I extend my arm out so she can go in first.

"Doctor why are you wearing that?" She giggles and points at me. I quickly look at the reflective closing doors and visibly wince when I catch my reflection.

I look ridiculous. No wonder he fired me, look at me, who would take this seriously? Why do I think these things look good. I don't know...I really have no idea. I rub my exposed upper arms and I can feel heat rise up towards my face.

"I, heh, just got...my shirt stained, and this vest was all I had."

Her giggling makes me nervous and I close my eyes, wanting nothing more than to bang my head against the wall in embarrassment.

"You're so cuute!" she paws at my arm and the door finally opens.

"W-well, have a good lunch, see you in a bit." My legs don't even let my lips finish speaking before I start bolting to my office. I jog down the small hall and almost crash into my door when I open it. I step inside, shut the door, and press my back against it in relief.

I can still smell him in this room. It's like he's right here.

"No no no..." I whisper to myself as my back slides down the same door where I was practically devoured whole. I sit on the floor with my elbows on my knees and then stick my fingers through my hair in confusion.

Why did this happen? Why did I lose control like that? I've never done anything like that...ever. Did I hurt him in some way; was I not doing something right?

The thought of hurting him makes me shut my eyes and grunt, I don't even know what I just did. Maybe I was too forceful, maybe I was not gentle enough. I'm so inexperienced and ignorant that I just let my body take complete control of me.

As my eyes remain closed I unwillingly replay the symphony of sounds in my head. His voice, the way he carelessly moaned, the sound of our breaths exchanging.

"I'm such an idiot." I bring my knees to my chest and slowly let my eyelids fall open. I catch a small twinkle of light and roll my head to the side to get a better look.

Two cufflinks lay carelessly on the ground. They're silver and polished, and when I pick them up they weigh more than I'd suspect. I move them around in my palm and bring them closer to my eyes. The outline of a two-headed eagle and an intricate crest are engraved within the fine silver. He was not lying about his status, he is pure wealth, isn't he.

The cufflinks dig into my skin when I tighten my palm around them. What was I thinking, doing something so reckless? I've never given in to anyone like that. So simply, so easily.

He could have had me at the snap of his fingers and he knew it.

"Excuse me, doctor Michaelis! Your one-o'clock is here!"

The sudden knocking on the door jolts my entire body and I stand up, clumsily stumbling as I try to compose my confusing thoughts. I immediately remove my sweater vest and my eyes zigzag across the room until I locate my strewn dress shirt.

"Yes, right away I will be right there!" I call out and race to the garment. As I button it from collar to hem, I look at my torso and swallow when I catch bright red blotches on the patch of skin that rests right above my hip bone. A sudden flash of his craned sweaty neck, his exposed throat and his erotically submissive face flickers within my mind and I quickly shake it away with a nervous clearing of my throat.

Ciel, I just wanted to help you, I didn't want to make things worse.

* * *

"Whoa, whoa, buddy! You might want to take a rest!" A man about twice my age hands me a towel and continues to try and talk me off of the pull-up bar I've been using for the past hour. My entire body is covered in sweat, my palms clench around the metal and every time I pull myself up I rid myself of thoughts of him. Over and over again I feel like I've been here for an eternity, trying to work myself out of thinking of my now ex-patient.

My biceps relax and tense, I can feel them tighten and it pains me to the point that I am now grunting with each pull. The bar rattles and as my chin hovers over my hands for the last time that I can bear, I quickly release my grip and fall onto the rubber mat below.

"I told you - you needed a break! I own this gym, I've never seen you here before so you must be new - here," he throws me an ice-cold bottle of water and then waves me off, "don't over-do it!"

I'm panting and tired, I can see my flushed face in the mirrored walls, my entire body aches even as I lift my arm to take a drink. Maybe I was here for more than an hour? Who knows, I really don't care. I'm glad it's the weekend. I've finally had enough time to get out all of this pent-up frustration. Now that I think about it, ever since I saw him last all of my free time has been spent working out. I run so much that I have gotten lost in this new town twice already. I bike to work and have a routine before I go to sleep. I'm definitely not acting like myself, I'm literally running away from my problems.

It's been one week and he hasn't contacted the office yet. I wonder if he is okay, or if he's been able to restrain his desires.

I have.

At first I thought it was just my imagination, or maybe I was caught up in the moment, but I soon realized that I couldn't shake him off of me. I keep his cufflinks in my pocket wherever I go be it gym or work or store or home. I possess them because I want to see him again, I want to give them to him.

I thought for sure that he would show this week, maybe to request me again, or to demand an apology, ...but he didn't. Only making appearances in my mind he toys with me and confuses me. Did I hurt him so much that he refuses to see me? He kissed me, he more than kissed me, yet he holds no desires to talk to me whatsoever?

"Hey buddy, get the hell off the floor, people need to move around here y'know."

I forget where I am for a second and look up to a fairly large individual. I nod in apology and then get to my feet, embarrassed yet again.

As I walk towards the exit I can feel sweat trickle down my spine and without consequence I think about him pressing my back into the desk and having my hands all over him. The sound of his heated voice echoing in my ear. His smell.

Jog. I think I'll jog home. It's a nice night for jogging.

* * *

The morning sun is bright and hot and muffled light washes into my office as I sit rather uninterested behind my desk. The atmosphere is as stale as the girl I am trying so hard to listen to. It's been exactly two weeks since this small room was taken advantage of, and as I think of my plan to see Ciel, my ears are constantly being filled with mind-numbing chatter.

I don't usually get into bad moods, but this woman is bothering me. My patient, Sarah, has been acting strangely ever since the day she met Ciel. All she does is talk ill of him, and then blatantly flirts with me throughout our entire session. I thought it was just because she was upset last week, but it seems that she is the same today as well.

My fingers scribble my ex-patient's name into a small memo pad as I grunt in acknowledgment of her words. She has no real reason to be here - this is my third session with her yet I see nothing wrong. Other therapist's here say that she goes from doctor to doctor and doesn't even speak about any real issues. She has money, and apparently a lot of free-time, so no matter how much I try to help her, there's really nothing I can do. Sometimes I feel like the events that happened two weeks ago have bruised my capabilities as a therapist. I need to try harder. I'm a good person, I just want to help people but my mind has no capacity for it right now. I'm not sure what to do.

I curl that last 'l' in 'Ciel' and mindlessly trace over it a few times before I realize what I'm doing. My expression is serious and I push my reading glasses up with my index finger before glancing at her.

"Is there anything else you'd like to talk about?" I ask.

"Yes" she chuckles, "are you free this weekend?"

It baffles me when women can turn a complete lack of interest into infatuation with no basis whatsoever.

"I'm not." I say calmly.

"Aww, well how about next weekend?"

"I'm busy."

"Tomorrow?"

"Working."

"How about we go out for a smoke break right now?"

"I quit." I smile slightly because it's true. I've smoked ever since the day my best friend passed, but for some reason the urge has completely left my body. It's been replaced with a more real, unattainable craving that I don't know how to curb.

"Hmph!" She crosses her arms and then uncrosses her legs. "If you're going to reject me then just reject me, Sebastian."

"I reject you."

"UGH! I can't believe you. I'm hot, I'm six years younger than you, I'm smart, I'm wealthy, why would you not want to go out on ONE little date with me huh?"

"I don't date patients."

"And what if I stopped being your patient, then would you?"

"Look," I put the pad of paper down that has his name drawn all over it and look up at her, "I don't have any attraction towards you in the slightest. Please respect my decision, Sarah."

She pouts and then closes her legs. "I think I'm going to fire you."

"You wouldn't be the first." It slips out and I hate how it came out almost as a whine.

"What? But you just started here...who fired you?"

"I can't disclose that information, sorry."

"It was that pompous little shit wasn't it - that Phantomhive prick. Haven't seen him around since that one time."

My eye twitches at her words and I clear my throat. "Our session has ended, please contact reception if you would like to appoint another therapist."

"Oh hush. That rich-bitch Phantomhive family is throwing this huge party tonight, you know. My father was invited, I'm thinking of going just to spy on the little shit. Can you believe the way he looked at me? I bet I can seduce him, yeah, and then leave him tied up to a bed and make him regret those snide little glances he gave me."

Okay. So many thoughts are running through my mind right now. A party. Tonight. She knows where it's at. She knows where he is. Ciel...tied up on a...a bed.

I cough without opening my mouth and the heat that I can feel rushing up my neck and to my face is almost impossible to hide.

"Sebastian, are you okay? Jesus is it too hot in here? It looks like you're choking..."

More coughing because I now feel stupid. I comb my hair back with my fingers and look at her. "H-how does your father know the Phantomhives?"

She eyes me suspiciously but only for a second before gloating about her connections. Who would have thought wealthy people would come to this desolate office for help? This city is just plain strange.

"Well, my father is good friend's with Vincent Phantomhive's attorney. That's his dad - I just realized it when I overheard them speaking the other day and caught the little shit's name."

So she is below him, a friend of a friend, I'm not surprised. But maybe she can help me.

"Before his last session, he left something here and I wanted to return it to him, do you know the address of the party?"

She eyes me annoyingly and purses her lips before speaking. "The party is at his parent's estate in the countryside, I don't know the location."

"Oh" I sigh. The party is at his parent's place, of course that would happen. But even if I could see him for a split second it would be worth it. "Do you happen to know where Ciel resides?"

It blurted right out of me.

"He has this enormous manor in the city I've heard. A lavish place made of stone, looks like a castle almost, designed by one of the country's most prestigious architects or something. I've never been there but after talking to a few of my friends, I've heard he's quite the whore and takes many people over there. Do you know if that's true?"

A sharp pang shoots through me and I look down, unknowing what to say. "No...I don't know."

"Anyway, so my friend apparently lives about a mile or two away from him, I'm pretty sure I can get the exact address if you want."

My eyes automatically shoot back up to meet hers - they are swimming with mischief and it frightens me slightly.

"Do you think you can...get the address for me? I mean...if you don't mind..."

She laughs lowly and licks her lips. I inwardly wince.

"Well, doctor Michaelis. If I get you the address, what will you give me in return?"

I knew this was coming, but I don't know what she wants.

"How about a free session?"

The laugh that bubbles out of her makes me sweat in discomfort.

"Sebastian you are too cute!" She cackles, "what I want is  _you_ ".

"... _me_?" I swallow.

"Sex"

The word itself flows in and out of me in a daunting, horrific way. Over and over it repeats itself and before I know it I have my head in my hands and I'm moving my foot back and forth in a panicked manner.

"Wow. Okay...hello? Sebastian? Hellooo? Stop freaking out! Are you having some kind of an anxiety attack?"

She gets up and the minute I hear her stand I straighten my posture and hold out my hands in front of me for protection against this evil woman.

"D-don't come any closer, I didn't agree to anything!"

She looks at me like I'm crazy and maybe I am.

"Geez, I was only joking." She sits back down and arches a brow, "look, how about you take me out to lunch tomorrow and I'll call you this afternoon with the address. Good?"

"Lunch..."

"Yes, lunch. Like food, you know, you chew it and digest it?"

Why do things have to be this complicated. I've only tried searching for his address once while looking through his files, but it seemed to have been a fake as it didn't exist when I looked it up. Now it's gotten to the point where I am exchanging favors for information? I'm a horrible therapist, look at me. I've lost my strict self-upbringing. I can't let this get to me, no. I just want to return his cufflinks, that's all. It's a kind gesture. They seem expensive so I will just give them to him and then say goodbye and then my life in this new town can finally get back to normal.

"Hey" she snaps her fingers at me and sighs, "yes or no, stop daydreaming."

"Oh...um, yes - okay. I'll have lunch with you."

"Ah! Perfect!" She squeaks and stands on her heels. "I have to call some people but I'll call the office with the info before you leave today. After that we can discuss where we'll meet tomorrow!"

"Yeah, sure. I'll be here."

"Talk to you soon." she giggles as she walks towards the door and when it finally shuts I slam my cheek onto the cool wood of my desk and sigh.

My eyes glance at the doodled-on notepad and when I notice just how many times I wrote his name I snap my eyes closed and turn my head to the other side. I'm so hopeless. There's no way I could be developing feelings for someone, for a man even. I've gone so long without succumbing to the normalcy of having romantic relationships with people. Not that I want to have a romantic anything with him. No, no I just want to help him and make sure he's okay.

When I see him tonight I'll make sure he's fine, maybe recommend another therapist and then everything will be good.

* * *

I feel like a stalker. The second I received the call from Sarah I jotted down the address, mumbled when she said she'd call me tomorrow and hung up. And now...

I'm currently parked across the street from this giant mansion that is supposed to house him. I plop onto the steering wheel of my run-down car and stare at the darkened windows of the house. No one is home. Why did I suspect him to be home if he was at that party? I barely think of the situation and lean back into the seats in disappointment.

My head lolls to the side, my disheveled hair obstructing some of my vision as I take one last look at the place and realize that he's not coming. It took me so long to get down here. I even dressed slightly presentable, I have my black dress pants on and a black dress shirt with no vest, since I know he hates those for some strange reason.

I roll my sleeves up and rub my shoulder as I turn the ignition. When the lights of my car shine onto the elevated road ahead, I slide my eyes to the manor for one last glance.

I immediately turn my car off.

There's a light. It's so faint that it's barely noticeable but it just flickered on. I look at the clock on my radio and it's midnight. I cringe at myself, out and bothering someone at this time of night. What is wrong with me?

When did he get here? Maybe he didn't attend the party, or he got here early. I've only been here for about half an hour. I thought I could catch him as he arrived, not as he was about to get ready to sleep. Now I feel guilty.

Just knowing that he is so close to me forces me to remove myself from my car. Before I know it I am at the large iron gates.

"I bet I can climb this." I think out loud as I rattle the iron bars. Right as I am about to jump onto it, the gate swings open slightly. It's unlocked.

I let it creak open and then slide my way through. The summer air is so thick and humid that I can feel sweat collect on my brow as I carefully make my way up the stairs to the front door.

What they said about this place is accurate. It's beautiful, I've never seen anything like it. The masonry and the craftsmanship that went into this house is one of the most exquisite things I've experienced.

When I reach the top of the steps I look down and wonder why there is such a lack of security for this place. I cringe at the thought of a guard dog or several guard dogs or maybe a pack of guard dogs. I don't do too well with canines.

The thought makes me nervous but when I hear something on the other side of the large door it makes my stomach feel like it's twisting. I lick my lips in anticipation and breathe out.

Knocking twice I listen for a response. Nothing.

I hear strange noises. A small thud, but no voices. I knock some more.

Nothing.

I frown and take a step back, looking at the architecture of the house. There is a large balcony not too high up and I wonder if I can get up there.

I bet I can.

Wait, what am I thinking? That's against the law, Sebastian you fool. Act rationally, compose yourself-

Suddenly, I hear screaming. When I hear the voice, even though it's muffled I know it's him so I press my body closer to the door and plead with him.

"Please!" I know it's late and this is ridiculous and I'm acting insane but I must see him. I've come this far there's no way I'm going back home now.

I hear frantic sentences that are screamed out incoherently and I can tell that something is wrong. He says something about not wanting to touch or kiss me and I blurt the first thing I can think of while placing my palm flat against the door.

"We've already kissed." I close my eyes and the words make a rush of memories flood into my vision. The feel of his warm mouth, the taste of his tongue and the pressure it created, the suction I felt.

Before I can shake the thoughts away the heavy door swings open and I step back in surprise.

My eyes widen and slide up and down his body in complete shock and worry. He leans against the door frame and in an instant he collapses onto the floor. He whispers my first name and then closes his barely opened eyes. My heart sinks and speeds up all at the same time and I panic when I see that frail body curl up into a ball.

"Shit" I fall to my knees right beside him and wrap his thin robe tightly around his small frame. My hand sweeps his sweat-matted locks of hair away from his pale face and I take in his tired expression.

He looks ill, and he smells like wine. There are dark circles under his eyes and his flawless skin is covered in a layer of cold sweat. Those lips are stained a dark red and they fall open slightly as he breathes. Looping my arms underneath his back and behind his knees I lift him up.

I'm in shock at how much he weighs, or doesn't weigh. As I close the door behind me with my foot I quickly turn around to lock it.

This house. It's enormous.

I'm rubbing his back like he's a sickened child as I try to find my way around the dark quarters. I could feel his faint breath on my neck and I swallow nervously because I don't know where I'm going.

I feel a warm palm softly slide up my chest and I look down to see him murmuring something. I jerk my arms up and try to shuffle him awake but he is like a doll as his head falls backwards, sliding onto my shoulder.

"Ciel, Ciel wake up...please, please...where's your bathroom, hey." I nudge him once again and he groans. The palm that is on my chest curls and is left with his index finger pointing up. Upstairs, of course.

My eyes adjust to the darkness and when I turn a corner I finally see an enormous staircase lit by pale light above. I speed up the steps and stop when I get to the top because his chest suddenly heaves.

Oh no.

I shift his body easily, my head pushed to the side as his chest is now slumped over my shoulder. He hangs off of me as I walk towards the light and his fingers dig into my shoulders when I hear him start to cough. He's going to vomit.

Right as I enter the room I take in the size of it only for a split second before locating the master bathroom that is to the right. As I walk into the lavish bath I hear a small gurgle and then a bubbling gagging sound.

"No no no, wait." I see the toilet and lift the lid but it's too late. Right as I am lowering him he vomits on my shoulder. I ignore it to position his body in front of the bowl and when I do he takes to it and wraps his arms around the cool porcelain as he pours his contents into it.

The pungent smell of regurgitated alcohol fills the bathroom and I quickly flush the toilet. The stain on my shoulder is a deep red and it's gelatinous and I quickly unbutton my shirt and remove it, throwing it to the side. The vomit seeped through the fabric and onto my bare skin but I couldn't care less because I need to make sure he gets everything out.

"Come on," I'm on my knees next to him, rubbing his hunched-over back, "let it all out, you'll feel better".

Another large wave of red gushes from his mouth and I brush his hair away from each side of his face with both hands as I mouth the word 'wow' because it's just so much. And it's all wine, there's no food which worries me. This time he flushes the toilet himself and as the fresh batch of water fills into the bowl he is left panting over it, his pale arms now falling to his sides.

"Is that all of it?" I whisper and rub the back of his slender neck.

"Mmnno..." he gasps and violently expels one last final explosion of liquid from his shaking lips. He has tears in his eyes and as the toilet flushes for the last time he moves his body back, too weak to stand on his own. His shoulders slump onto my chest and I get up, lifting him to his feet as my arms wrap around his tiny waist.

"Come on, here, sit." I close the lid to the toilet and gently place him on it. His eyelids lift and I see those blue eyes for the first time in weeks.

I think at that very moment, even though he was a mess, even though he had wine stains around his lips and even though he smelled like a bar and refused to make eye contact - he looked beautiful. All of my pent-up thoughts for the past two weeks suddenly surfaced and I finally realized that for some reason due to some unknown fluke - I am attracted to this man.

"What're...wait, why are you here." He mumbles and digs his left hand into the silk of his robe, right above his thigh. He seems embarrassed and his face is red from the strain he just put on his body.

"To take care of you, now lean against the wall, stay right here I'll be right back."

Regretfully, I leave his side and sprint to the kitchen. With the lights on it looks like something you'd see in a magazine. All I'm looking for is a refrigerator but I don't see a refrigerator. My hands desperately move over the cabinets until I locate a large door. When I pull it open the cool air from within makes me sigh in relief and I barely search the contents of the fridge before locating two bottles of water and snatching them into my arms. My bare chest welcomes the frigid sensation and I slam the cabinet or fridge or whatever it is shut and race back upstairs.

I see him slumped over, his head now leaning against the wall. His robe has slipped off of his shoulders yet again and I put the bottles down to tend to him.

The dark red robe is placed over his pale skin and I swallow as I cover him up. I've abstained from sex for my entire life I think I'll be able to hold it for tonight, hopefully. No, I will. I won't let my body take control of me like it did back in my office.

"Hey, here come on, let's get up, let's go to the sink."

He breathes out, annoyed, and lets me help him up. With his elbows on the sink I turn on the water and hunch over him.

"Don't swallow, just rinse." I cup my hand under the faucet and bring the small pool of water to his mouth. He purses his lips and sucks it in and I smile because it looks as cute as it sounds.

"No,  _noo,_  don't swallow." I squeeze the sides of his cheeks and he lets the water fall from his lips. We repeat the action a couple of times and I take a toothbrush from its holder and shuffle through a drawer until I find some toothpaste.

"Brush your teeth and then you can sleep, ok?"

"No. I don't want to brush teeth." He mumbles and frowns at the toothbrush.

"Come on, beautiful, don't make me do it for you." I hover it in front of his moist lips and lick my own because I'm just that happy right now. When he hears me call him that he blushes from his neck to his ears and I eye him up and down through the mirror because I can't believe he's making these kinds of faces.

"Pft..." he chuckles and grabs the brush and starts to lazily clean his teeth. I watch him, completely transfixed as he sticks out his tongue and slowly drags the bristles over it. We lock eyes through the mirror and then both look away at the same time. I want him to be sober already because I want to talk to him seriously. God I wish he didn't drink tonight.

"There" he groans and lets the toothbrush fall into the sink. I catch him staring at my body and it makes me feel exposed.

"Why are you naked?" He asks boldly.

I look down at my chest and then glance back up at him.

"Because you threw up on me, remember - now rinse." I lean over his back and place my cupped hand in front of his mouth yet again. He grabs it with both of his hands and tilts my palm to let the water pour past his lips.

I can feel the heat of his breath and I look up to the ceiling because this situation is making me feel extremely frustrated. His fingers grab my wrist and he bends over even more to position it under the tap, consequently pressing his backside into my crotch.

The action makes me feel like a spark has ignited within me and as he sips from my hand I softly tap his chin and nudge him with my hips. "Stand straight."

"We should shower together." He straightens his back and turns around after spitting into the sink, both of his palms flat on the countertop to keep his balance. His minty mouth has water trickling out of it and running down his neck. I swallow at the proposition and then slowly shake my head.

"No...you need to sleep."

"With you," he bites his plump bottom lip and cranes his neck, exposing his tempting throat, "how about it... _beautiful?"_  


He mocks me and I admit - it turns me on.

The last thing I want to do is take advantage of him. I don't even want to begin to think of the things I could do to that frail body. I care for his health both physically and mentally so I know my boundaries. I don't want to hurt him again, I don't want him to disappear.

"Drink this first." I bend down to pick up the water bottle and I tear the cap off of it before handing it to him, "here".

"Nn, help me drink it..."

He's evil.

Sticking his hips out he bends his body backwards and opens his mouth, his head now hovering upside-down over the sink because that's how drunk he is. The robe shuffles off of one of his shoulders and I'm embarrassed to say that I can feel my length begin to thicken. He's an expert in seduction, I can only wonder how many times he's done this.

I grab his waist with force and position myself in between his legs. He laughs at the action as if it was expected and I can see his Adam's apple slide within the casing of his cream-colored skin. Our hips meet and I lean over him, my lips wavering right over his throat as I eye him. I place the opening of the bottle onto the cushioning of his soft lips and watch as he swallows the water just as I wanted him to. His hands grip onto my naked shoulders because I'm pushing his body hard against the sink. When half of the liquid disappears down his throat he moves his head and lets out a hot breath, almost a moan. I let the bottle fall into the sink and I watch him as his head remains fallen back, his hair dangling perfectly off of his face so I can see all of him.

"Fuck me like this." He breathes out and I feel him widen his legs.

I close my eyes and squeeze them tightly shut as hard as I can. I can't do this to him, not like this. What if he doesn't want me when he's sober and is only doing this because he's drunk? I don't want him to regret his actions. I especially don't want him to get a taste for sex and start having it wherever he goes. That would kill me.

"Not like this." I barely speak the words.

"Then how?" He slides his palms down my chest and lifts his head, finally looking at me, "when?"

"When you feel better, okay?"

"I feel good though."

"Yeah you just filled three toilet-bowls full of wine."

He smiles drunkenly and then nods his head, his eyes blinking. "Okay" he whispers.

I grab both of his hands and walk backwards out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, tugging him along while I watch his stumbling feet. He smiles and laughs like we're playing a game and it makes me laugh as well. When my legs hit the base of the enormous bed I swing him to the side until he falls onto the plush mattress. Our hands are still connected and he weakly pulls me down. Leaning over I release our laced fingers and place a thin blanket over him.

"Rest now, I'm going to clean myself up."

"Sleep with me," he whines and then stares at me with those lidded eyes, "sleep with me, Sebastian".

The way his lips move when he says my name is something I wouldn't mind watching a million times over. I could never tire of it - ever.

"I can't." I frown and he thrashes on the bed at my words.

"No! Please..." he breathes in and out, "just sleep, sleep next to me, sleep...not fucking just sleeping!"

Oh, so that is what he meant. I didn't even think of the time, or of staying with him, or sleeping here. I can't, though. I have work in the morning and I'm all the way out in the city. Maybe when he falls asleep I can slip out and then come back tomorrow night.

"Let me get cleaned up, Ciel. I'll be right back."

Before I could get up he grabs the back of my neck and forces me down to his level. His warm lips press against my ear and he speaks clearly for the first time.

"If you leave tonight, you'll never see me again."

His tongue slips into my ear along with the threat and he kisses my lobe before turning around and giving himself a chuckle of affirmation. I can see his mouth curl into a pleasant smile and he stuffs his face into a pillow like he doesn't have a care in the world.

Looks like I won't be leaving tonight.

* * *

I have just gotten out of the luxury of taking a shower in this extravagant manor. I have my black slacks on, belt removed, and I am currently looking through his wardrobe for a simple shirt that will fit me. Everything is so small.

I pull out a perfectly folded white undershirt and hold it out in front of me. It will have to do. I hope he doesn't mind...

The thing is tight around my arms and if I wasn't so thin I would probably look ridiculous. Right as I shuffle my damp locks back and forth to dry them out, I watch as my ex-patient sleeps soundly on his enormous bed. It makes him look even smaller and the thought puts a smile on my face.

When I approach the bed he groans and turns onto his back. His torso peeks through the robe and I slowly make my way under the sheets. I'm nervous. This is the first time I've ever slept next to someone I had feelings for. I don't know what to do.

His body immediately latches on to mine, our legs entwine and his arms swing loosely over my waist. I close my eyes when he buries his nose into my neck and I feel him breathe in as if smelling me. My arms wrap around him and I selfishly stick one of my hands beneath his robe to cup his shoulders and press him harder against me.

I'm in heaven, I can't believe how good this feels. I don't want this to end, I don't want the sun to come up because I fear what will happen when it does.

"Go to sleep," he murmurs into my collar bone and digs his nose into my freshly washed skin even more, "you're going to need it".

What?

I brush off the strange comment and close my eyes because I've never been this comfortable. With him in my arms, I finally fall asleep, a little past two in the morning and the happiest I've been in a long , long time.

* * *

I feel the pulls from sleep increase and I groan, my eyelids lifting hesitantly. The room in the morning light is more beautiful than I could fathom and I lie there and lazily take in all of the expensive decor. I'm facing away from him, and before I turn around I glance at a small ornamental clock that sits on the bedside table. It's eight in the morning.

I turn onto my side and my eyes widen at the sight. It's more beautiful than anything in this room, it's stunning and radiant and I can't believe I'm mere inches from someone this perfect.

Ciel rests, still asleep on his back. His head is tilted to the side, his hair swept messily on the soft pillows below. He has one arm perched lazily over his own waist, and his other arm is tucked beneath the pillow. Throughout the course of the night he's shuffled his limbs out of the robe and the only glimpse of red I see is a small pile of silk pooling tantalizingly low on his hips.

His body is thin, his arms seem weaker than they were when we last met, but his flesh is pure and smooth, completely flawless - untouched. My eyes trace the lines of his hips and I stare at his naval as it slowly moves up and down every time he breathes.

My senses become heightened for him and I am not ashamed to say that I feel like mounting him and marking him as my own. My breath falls deeper and I can feel my pants begin to tighten. This urge to have him under me, I've never felt this before. It's so strong that I move closer, merely out of curiosity.

My palm slides from his shoulder to his elbow and I feel that warm skin on the tips of my fingers, absorbing the silken texture.

He groans and moves his hand from under the pillow to plop it down right above his eyes. The action makes me lick my lips and before I know it I see his eyebrows knit in what looks like confusion.

The arm falls back down to the mattress and I watch him as his eyes slowly open.

He looks right at me and bites the side of his bottom lip. He swallows and then blinks. I grow more anxious by the second.

"It seems my dreams have come true," he smiles and starts to play with my hair, twirling it lazily between his slender digits, "you look beautiful in my bed".

The compliment makes me speechless and I clear my throat, not knowing what do to or say.

"I don't remember much of last night, but I assume we didn't do anything, right?"

The sober way in which he speaks is firm and confident, almost authoritative. It's miles apart from the man I met last night, and this side of him turns me into a nervous, fumbling idiot.

"Uh, no...we didn't. I just helped you when you were sick and then we slept together, I mean not s-slept together but we were sleeping on the same...bed, this bed obviously..."

I hate myself right now.

He softly laughs and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear before speaking.

"I've been a mess without you. I could smell you in my sleep and I dreamed of you."

"What did you dream?"

His hand slides from my cheek down to my jaw and he lifts my face up so I can look him straight in the eye.

"Are you sure we didn't do anything last night?" He changes the subject.

"Y-yes, I'm sure." I stutter because he's staring right through me.

"And why not?"

"Because you were drunk, and ill."

"Why did you come in the first place?"

"To talk, and to return the cufflinks you left in my office."

"Talk about what?"

Damn. I am not prepared for this. I don't want to talk right now I want to act out my thoughts. I want to push him down but I can't because I feel like he would not want that, so I just stare at him and say nothing yet again.

"Your face is red," he rubs my cheek with his thumb in gentle circular motions, "and warm".

I say nothing of course, I just lie there frozen in place, staring at him.

"Do you know how hot you make me?"

He pushes my hips and forces me onto my back as he moves himself up. My eyes fall to his naked thighs and I see the curves of his body, the robe now only uselessly covering the front of him. The question remains unanswered as I stay there, completely infatuated by his form.

My eyes slide up past his chest and I finally meet those striking blue eyes. My breath becomes hot and I take my hand and grasp the back of his neck without thinking.

I pull him down and our mouths finally meet because I can't take it anymore. I'm not being rough and neither is he. He widens his jaw and our tongues slip over one another. It's hot and slow and I close my eyes as my head tilts.

He moans in between the soft suckling and my arousal is so stiff that it hurts. His voice makes me ache and the flavor of his lips make me want to taste the rest of him. He still has his palm flat on my hip and I wonder when he'll take this further.

I press into him a bit more, our loose tongues now firming up and rolling at a faster pace. I grunt and moan and keep thinking about his hand when suddenly, he uses it to start taking off my shirt, or his shirt, it doesn't matter.

I let him do whatever he wants and our mouths separate for a split second as he pulls it off of my head and lets it drop to the floor. His eyes are all over me and he breathes out like he's impressed.

" _Shit_. You look sexier than when I last saw you. I didn't even think that was possible..."

I'm not embarrassed anymore. I don't care if I look stupid or if I'm inexperienced or if I can't please him. But I want to try.

My hand slides down his torso and we stare at one another. I rub his hips and grab the flesh, squeezing it between my thumb and index finger until it lifts, massaging it. He lets out a small gasp and his arms wrap around my neck.

"I haven't had sex in almost a month." He whines and starts to kiss my neck. The confession makes me happier than it should, seeing that he will probably not make it to a full month at all.

Before I can say a word his legs start to move and when I look down I notice what he's doing.

He kicks off the robe completely and my hand lifts from his hips. He sucks on my neck and my breath hitches when I see all of him.

To say that he's aroused would be an understatement. His nude form makes me hungry for him and he starts to lift his hips up and down, practically screaming for my attention.

I want nothing more than to taste him. The room is getting hot and my restraint is slowly crumbling. His legs spread wide and he grabs my hand before licking his way up to my ear.

"I need release, Sebastian." He forces my palm onto his erection and we both hiss at each other's touch. Groaning out his moan he releases this long, exasperated sigh of what I can only guess is pleasure.

He keeps moving his body up and down and I stare right at him. I feel him, I clench onto him.

After a split second of taking in his flushed face, I slide down the bed and give in to the persuasion of his hips, because there's nothing else in this world that I'm more sure of than this exact moment in time.

..

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

_"You're too wild."_

* * *

"W-wait." I breathe out. No, I can't even breathe. I can't see nor think, I can't process simple information, I can't form coherent words or create the easiest of sentences. My sounds all escape me when this man, this former therapist of mine begins to kiss his way down my naked torso.

The whole situation is surreal. My dreams were more tame than this unbelievable reality. When I awoke and the thumping of my head transferred to the thumping of my heart, I was beside myself. He was beside me. Not only was he real but he touched me to affirm his existence. His warm hand grasping the back of my neck did me in, and when I tasted his mouth it broke the seal of all of my trapped emotions and let them come bursting right out of me. I tried to keep it cool, I tried not to squirm, and in the end I believe that I succeeded in this faux act of composure because I didn't frighten him away with my abhorrent desperation.

Our lips moved in sync, our tongues not so much. My heart felt like it was melting and my body acted as if it was removed of all structure. When we connected my eyes couldn't even stay open because it just felt too good to be true. Our jaws moved in waves and every time he would tilt his head this small 'mm' of a moan would slip past his throat only to be immediately swallowed by me. He was showing me more than I could imagine. I didn't have to look to know how aroused he had become, I could see it in his eyes, I could feel it on his lips.

Those eyes put me in a trance and as if possessed I took action unwillingly, a slave to my own body. I grabbed his large hand, wrapped it around my own selfish need and right now - right at this very moment, is where my mind is currently trying to process the real-time unfathomable act of his lips dragging softly past my hip bone and then coming to a halt a mere inch an INCH away from my erection because of my stupid words.

His beautiful eyes roll up and I can see him swallow. His palms are pressing down into the mattress, flanking my thighs and causing his upper arms to tense and give me the seductive show of his flexed muscles. God it makes me melt and the way he looks at me makes me wish I never told him to 'w-wait'. What in the  _f-fuck_  is wrong with me anyway? W-wait, w-wait I keep replaying my female banter over and over and I can't believe what I just said. No don't 'w-wait' fucking go on now, continue, taste me, feel me, let me make love to your mouth let me shiver and shake and whine, let me drain myself inside of you and have a part of my livelihood swim deep within you. I don't want you to stop, I don't want to keep saying useless untrue things about 'waiting' - if I could rip my mouth off to spite my speech I would but then how would I return the favor?

"Can't I?" his unbelievably sexy voice is deep and heavily infused with desire and the way he says it makes my heart beat to such a degree that I almost question if I'm healthy enough for this strenuous activity.

"Are you sure you...want to?" Agh - NO. No no no, WHY did I just say that?! Ciel, you idiot you moron you vile piece of trash, embodiment of ineptitude, fucking senseless torturer just shut up for once! Leave me be you traitor of a mouth, stop ruining the moment, you pull me to the fiery pits of hell with every gasp of sound you make!

"Yes" oh hark, the angel hovering above my dripping cock nods his head and licks those virgin lips of his. The gates of all manifestations of beauty unhinge and swing open and he's like a fucking god to me, to my body. I will devote my life to this man, I will live for him and blindly follow him, I will worship him and get on my knees for him. I want this god to bend me over and show me what pure fucking bliss feels like. Be my savior and let me savor your body, your flesh, your blood everything and anything, I want it all. Rock your otherworldly cock into my sinful hole and fuck me into a higher-level of being, rescue me from my tainted past and fuck the sin right out of me. Yeah, spread me so wide that I chant your name over and over you fucking beautiful creature, you untouched soul - embodiment of complete perfection, take me.

I nod my head slightly as he stares right at me and when his eyelashes fall I'm breathless once again.

He's fearless as he eyes my body - I'm restless as he pauses! He's teasing me and I love it, but my pleasure is being playfully delayed and fuck how it makes me ache for him.

Give me that mouth, you saint, let me soil it with my seed. Give it to me and let me cross over into the realm of your hot constricting throat. My eyes are transfixed on you, I want only you, so preach to me with your tongue and persuade me to sacrifice my everything for you because I guarantee you that it won't take much-

"Ah,  _GOD!"_  I moan so fucking loud that my whole body shakes. All ten of my digits dig into the sheets and I arch my back so high that I lift it right off the mattress. The second his mouth latches onto my shaft is something I'll remember for the rest of my life it's just that fucking historic.

He takes no precautionary licks, no experimental bullshit sucks. No, this man of mine swallows me  _whole._ His perfection solidifies when the tight grip of his lips slide all the way down until there is nothing left to engulf. I look down in disbelief and then throw my head back into the pillows when he starts to roll his tongue slowly over the underside of my flesh and then push into the length in a mind-blowingly orgasmic motion.

"Ahh-nnn-MM, F-fuck! Y-youaahh." Yeah, I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. Did I just say 'fuck you'? I'm lost I'm gone I've been pushed into this pleasure zone and I have no fucking chance of leaving anytime soon. I want to look at what he's doing but I can't because the back of my head is glued to my pillow and my hands are clawing the sheets for dear life as my naked body lifts up and down, succumbing to every flick and wave of his tongue. He's controlling my every motion with that hot mouth and I continue to mumble useless things to him.

When he makes out with my leaking tip I finally let out the air in my lungs and roll my eyes down to see him for the first time. I let out a whine that sounds like I'm about to cry because I'm witnessing something so fucking unreal.

My dick is flushed red and it's slick with his saliva. It's dripping - it's  _soaked._  His locks of hair have fallen messily away from his perfect face and it verifies that he is the sexiest human being on this planet. His eyes are closed but not tightly. His expression makes me lose it as it looks like he's actually enjoying himself and when I see his pink tongue poke from between his lips and trace over the shape of my head I let my mouth fall open.

"Sebastian  _mmnnn_  fuck Se..stian, Sebasti..ahh." I babble incomplete and broken variations of his name over and over and almost instantaneously I can tell that he likes it.

It fuels him.

My thighs snap apart as wide as they can go and the palms of my hands latch on to his ears, the tips of my fingers digging into his scalp and pulling his now sweaty locks of tangled hair. I grasp his head tightly and bite my lip as I wail out desperate whines and words.

He doesn't mind that I'm pulling his hair or gripping his head like a vice - he never stops bobbing up and down my shaft. He enjoys getting mouth-fucked by me and you know what I fucking love giving it to him. I would divorce my family and my business to live in his mouth like this.

His tongue twists onto my flesh right as he's lowering his head for the hundredth time but in this instance it makes me cry out like a lunatic. Not one man has ever made me scream like this, and there's no fucking chance of me holding back my words.

  
_"Rrrgh,_  Sebastian!" this fucking searing heat spreads throughout my lower half and I ignore the sweat in my eyes and snap them open. My hips lift off the mattress and I'm thrusting into his mouth like I'm possessed. My movements are animalistic and my words are nothing but curses. I scream and moan his name over and over until he suddenly slides my length right from his mouth.

I'm left panting on the bed like a fucking dog that just had his blowjob interrupted and I can barely even think straight. The heat in the room is too intense and I let my fingers slip from his damp locks. With a single hand he places it on my hip and presses it onto my skin, steadying me as I sink back down into my pillow.

His palm is hot and it does nothing to cool me down.

"You're too wild." He whispers and smiles so fucking cutely that if my face wasn't already red well it fucking is now. I don't even know what to say to that because I can't get over the way his lips curve and the sincerity that's permanently engraved on his face.

It makes me embarrassed. I rarely get embarrassed. In fact, the only times I've ever let that shameful emotion work its way into my body is when it involves this man. Shit.

"I'm...sorry. I just, your mouth." I am breathing these words out as I look at anything but him. I place my forearm over my eyes because I feel like my eyelids will betray me and snap open, causing me to look even more foolish.

"Is...it okay...what I'm doing I mean?"

Are you fucking serious? Are you  _serious_? Hey everyone - is this fucking man, this man who's between my spread fucking legs - is he FUCKING serious?! Noo, no I was just fucking your mouth like a beast in heat because it wasn't good. Yeah, my throat is raw from screaming your name because you suck at sucking. My mind was in another fucking euphoric reality because you don't know what you're doing. Yeah. That must be it.

"Does it look like I don't like it?" Okay I calm my little anger-fest because I mean look at him. His bare chest is covered in sweat, not to mention pristinely sculpted, but fuck it's not his body that makes me go crazy this time it's his stupid face! He looks at me with these eyes that pierce right through me and make me speechless every fucking time.

"You can...put your hands on my head again if you want." The blush on his face darkens and he clears his throat nervously, contradicting his bold words.

Oh come on. Come. On! You can't do this to me! You gorgeous fuck, you stupid -  _argh_  - adorable idiot what the fuck do you expect from me when you look like that?! Now you want me to claw at the back of your head again, just like that? I don't even know if I-

"AhhHH!" Never mind, doesn't matter. Instead of waiting for me to snap out of my fawning he pushes my dick forward towards my naval and then starts licking me all over. ALL over. His tongue slips past every nook and fucking curve of me and it forces me to inhale a sharp moan. His hand starts to massage my hip and then he trails his lips up and begins to kiss my inner thigh.

I watch him as my breath picks up and I fucking lose it when his tongue joins in and laps at my skin. He kisses me so agonizingly slow that I start tugging on my own hair. The pleasure I feel just from this is unbelievable and I swallow when he keeps going.

"Sebastiaan" I groan and shut my eyes for a split second when he starts to kiss my knees. How...why...god no one has ever done this to me and it's making me so fucking horny that I don't even know what to do with myself. When I call his name his lips are resting right below my knee and he looks up at me.

I shiver at the motions of his mouth because he speaks onto my flesh, never looking at me.

"You just taste so good." His words are muttered and shy and right after he confesses this he trails hard, forceful teeth-clenching kisses back down my thigh. My mouth is left open and as I watch him I'm starting to breathe erratically. He's making me so hot that I feel like the room is on fire.

I bite my lip and mewl like a submissive little bitch when he engulfs every single inch of me. I feel both of his hands move under my thighs and he grasps my hips. My dick is literally being swallowed by him as it hits the back of his throat and his lips remain clenched onto the base as he moves his jaw from side to side.

He takes one look at me, a single glance from those beautiful fucking eyes and then jerks his body back, taking me with him. Before I know it his fingers are digging into my flesh, pulling me and dragging me almost completely off the bed.

I scream at the forceful act and try to claw at the sheets to no avail. I'm still inside of him and my eyes are darting from his head to his shoulders to the strong arms that are wrapping around me. His knees fall to the floor and like a fucking doll my body is manhandled and slides right onto the edge of the mattress. My thighs tighten around his head and my legs drape over his broad shoulders as I scream out his name.

"S-sebastian, shit!" even though he has this crazy grip on me I feel like I'm going to fall right off him so both of my hands slam down between my thighs and clench onto his hair. My fingers are like talons as I pull the strands and my mind is trying to process every single action. His tongue swirling around my cock, his hands gripping onto my hips, the way my body is positioned and the way he starts to bob his head god fuck fuck I'm losing it.

"NNnghhseba- _AH_ -stian, I'm going to,  _rrgh_   **FUCK**!"

I feel like I'm on some dick-sucking carnival ride when he moves his shoulders and my entire body jerks up in response. My eyes are shut, my fingers still holding on for dear life and I fucking wail out when I feel that twitching sensation.

"M-move your head fuck! AH!"

But there's nowhere to move. He's latched onto me, he's suckling and slurping and acting as if he's famished and I'm his first fucking taste of sustenance.

He sucks me tighter, he pushes his tongue into me harder, he moans god he fucking moans into my flesh and I blink and swallow and scream. My vision impairs, my throat is dry, my voice is no more as I just knock my head back and fling my sweat-covered strands of hair into the air and let my jaw fall open as I come.

My eyes roll back and I'm staring at my ceiling until I close my eyelids and remove my grip from his head, letting my back fall hard onto the cool mattress below. His torso twitches and I can feel him swallow every drop I had in me as he slides his mouth up my still spurting dick.

I don't know why but I cover my mouth and just breathe harder than I ever have before. My whole body is shaking, my thighs feel weak and my face is so hot that I'm dripping sweat. I can feel the drops trickle down my neck and I moan into my hand when he starts to lap at my slit, cleaning me up. He kisses it gently and even though my eyes are closed I can feel his gaze on me.

"Ciel" he crawls onto the bed and I don't know why but I feel so stupidly shy. I'M the one acting like the virgin and you know what I don't even care because I'm still riding out the best orgasm I've ever fucking had. The waves of pleasure continue to crash into me and I close my eyes tighter and let my forearm rest over them. Almost immediately he nudges my arm off of my face with his nose and I can't help but look at him when he's that close to me.

My eyes slowly open and he looks even more embarrassed than I feel. It's so endearing that I smile in between my breaths.

"And just...where did you learn...how to do that?" My fingers lace through his hair and fuck this sensation but something happens to my chest when our eyes meet.

He smiles and shakes his head as those gorgeous orbs shyly slide away from mine, "I don't even know...you made me like this".

"Surely you must have learned that somewhere." I tease him and move his chin with my index finger so I can see those eyes once again.

He shakes his head and knits his brows. "I didn't even know what I was doing, I just acted on...instinct," he swallows "I guess".

Instinct. The word itself makes me wild but his face makes me even more crazy. I want to compliment his technique and lavish him with praise and congratulate him for turning me into a complete fucking mess but I don't. When I stare into him the only thing I can think of is how bad I want him.

I kiss him hard. My index fingers slide into the belt loops of his pants and I pull him over me as our mouths busy. His palms now frame my shoulders and his broad chest touches mine ever so slightly. I gasp into the kiss and spread my legs, whining when he softly bites my tongue. I taste myself and to have my essence all over him makes me hum into our attachment and intensify the wrapping of our tongues.

I can't take it anymore and I grunt like a fucking animal and grab his dick, squeezing it and basking in pleasure when he rips his lips away from mine and moans, his forehead falling right onto my chest.

His black pants and his black hair, his long toned torso, the muscles in his arms and the way he's on his knees, the way I fucking feel his dick like this for the first time fuck it almost makes me come again.

He's thick, real thick. Harder than I could imagine. More man than I can probably handle. My absolute dream.

"W-wait." there it is again, those damned words, except this time they spill from his lips instead of mine. I feel his fingers lace through my groping hand and he removes it from the grip on his cock. I lick my lips in confusion, my eyebrows twist into a shockingly somber expression as I whisper to him.

"I'm...sorry," I breathe "are you..."

He removes himself from between my legs and shuffles his body up to rest right beside mine. I move onto my side and look at him as our chests touch. He looks nervous and like something else is worrying him. Finally, he answers my question.

"Just give me...a little bit of time." He laces our legs together and squeezes my hand "I want to, I just...don't want to rush anything. And when I have more time..."

My eyes stare at his left eye, and then his right. I process his words I really do but I just can't seem to comprehend this kind of rejection. I suppose it's not really a rejection because he's assuring me that it will happen, but still - how can he just hold back like this, especially after his dick swelled into a shape larger than I could grip? I'm not understanding his willpower.

"More time?" I ask "...why?"

"Ciel, I've never done this remember. I feel nervous, I feel uneasy about what I'll do to you or how you'll react to my body."

What the? "Your body?"

He averts my gaze and mumbles, "What if you don't like it".

This man is just packed full of surprises. I laugh. No, really I laugh I genuinely laugh at his little insecurity because he must be fucking joking. Sebastian Michaelis you king of comedy, you're a fucking riot.

"Why are you laughing?" Aw oh god his face looks so suddenly sad that I shut my wicked mouth and place a small kiss on his lips

"Sorry, but...you can't be serious. Sebastian..." I push him down onto the bed, his back now flush against the sheets as I climb on top of him. "I understand if you need more time, I get that. But don't make this about your body."

My palms press down onto his chest and I sit on his abdomen as I rub his skin. "I've never been so attracted to someone like this," I confess "every part of you turns me on, so don't worry about me not liking something. Chances are I'll become obsessed with it instead."

I think I'm becoming addicted to his blush, but that's something I'll never tell him.

"Okay, okay," he pulls me down and wraps his arms around me. "I wish I could stay longer." He sighs and buries his nose into the crook of my neck.

My whole little fantasy world comes crashing down and I groan. "You have to leave right now?"

"I have to go to work, remember."

No. No, don't go. Don't move a muscle don't walk or stand or let go of me, don't fucking leave at a time like this. I'll hire you as my own personal therapist, I'll buy out your offices, I'll do anything fuck just don't fucking go not now.

"Mm, okay." I must not be that insane, so I mutter some stupid response acknowledging his departure. I always get what I want but not with this man, no, he makes me work so fucking much for the smallest things and it drives me insane.

I remove my naked body off of him and stand next to the bed. I admittedly feel dizzy, and quite weak, but I say nothing and shake off the feeling. I tilt my head and massage one of my shoulders, wondering just how long we were fooling around for. With a sigh on my lips I grab my fallen robe. Once it drapes over me I tighten the belt over my waist and turn back around to see him still in the same place, staring right at me.

"When can I see you again?" He asks right as our eyes meet.

"I'm at your service, doctor, so whenever you please." It's true, none of that is a lie. I would drop the most expensive bottle of wine right on the floor if it meant I'd be able to see him.

"Are you at anyone else's service?"

Do they sell man-cages? Perhaps small little enclosures in which I can just kidnap this creature and have him all day long all to myself? God he's fucking adorable I just want to lock him up in my room and have him never be a working member of society ever again.

"I told you I haven't had sex in over a month. Well, until now if you count this." I don't. I don't count this. Let me count something, give me the real thing, fuck, "I'll keep to my word".

"Okay" he sits up and smiles so innocently that I wonder if he really did just have his face buried between my legs. I throw him his shirt and my lips wilt into a frown when his flawless skin is covered.

I watch as he moves to the edge of the bed and puts his shoes on. When he bends down to tie his laces, his shirt rides up just enough to torture me and slap his sexiness all over the damn place. I bite my lip and eye-fuck him about a million times until he turns around and starts to walk towards me.

"Your cufflinks are in your dressing room, and there's a bottle of water by your sink if you're thirsty...and," he rubs his upper arm and looks right at me as he stops a few inches away from my chest, "please eat something. You're wasting away. You look starved."

"I am," I frown and wrap my arms around his waist, pushing him against me, "but you didn't want to feed me".

He groans and places soft kisses onto the length of my neck. His lips alone put a spell on me and I dig my fingers into his waist and practically merge our hips together. His tongue responds to the violence and he laps gently at my skin but that won't do - I need more.

"Mark me." I breathe out and crane my neck to the side, loving the way his hand instantly cradles the back of my head.

"Mm-" my mouth falls open and I hiss when he widens his jaw and takes to my flesh. His tongue swirls around and presses into me as he runs his fingers through my hair. I feel him suck and I hold my breath as the pressure increases.

His other hand surprises me as it slides onto my chest and under my robe. He gropes the side of my torso and then grasps my lower back to brace himself. I feel like I'm being sensually eaten and it sends a shiver down my spine.

"Mm, Sebastian." I say his favorite word and he grunts. His lips create this blissful seal against my skin and his hands embrace me like he never wants to let me go.

The pain I feel is beyond exhilarating. It's euphoric. My tongue licks the side of my mouth and I clench my teeth because his motions are only getting rougher.

"O-okay,  _ah,_  okay..." my mind is pleasure-filled but my body can only handle so much right now, so it speaks for me and completely ruins the mood.

Like a good boy he detaches from my neck and he swallows hard at the result.

"I'm so sorry, oh god, I didn't mean to do it so hard." He reverts back to his normal virginal self and my head lowers when his arms loosen around me.

"Everything you do makes me want you more. You didn't do anything wrong." I step back, lifting my hands away from his waist and placing them on the knot of my robe. I lean in and give him a soft peck on the corner of his lips, "you should go now before I seduce you again".

Like some shameless female I pull the belt of silk and let the burgundy robe fall right onto the floor. His eyes move all over me and I turn around to walk towards my bath. Fuck I'm bad, I know - but he's worse for torturing me like this.

"In the top drawer is a thin metal case. There are business cards in there. Take one and call me whenever you're free." I chime.

My bare foot touches the cool tile of the bathroom floor only for a split second until I suddenly feel my wrist being pulled and my body yanked from its motions. I would hate to say 'works every time' and apply it to this man, but, what can I say. If he wants me to work for him then I'm going to use all of my resources.

"Tonight," he blurts out, "are you free tonight?"

"Yes" I lie, I haven't even looked at my schedule for the past two days. It doesn't matter, though, I'll cancel anything for him.

"O-okay, around eight? I'll be here..."

"Perfect" I genuinely smile at his behavior.

"Good, okay - I'll see you tonight." He squeezes my digits and then releases my hand all together, walking backwards as he speaks, "and don't forget to eat and drink lots of water...eat a lot, please".

He says the weirdest shit sometimes. With a small laugh I nod my head and wave "sounds good, bye Sebastian"

* * *

"I don't want to HEAR it, Ciel - you're going and that is FINAL. This isn't playtime this is business, this is what our family has worked for for decades this is your responsibility" I'm freshly showered, sitting on the edge of my bed as I listen to my father yell at me when I informed him that I wouldn't be able to meet with him tonight.

"But father, this is only one night, I'm unwell, you know that."

"Is that why you left last night without properly dismissing yourself? You know your mother and I had to make up excuses and you know how bad she is at lying."

"Yes, I'm aware. I apologize."

"Make sure you're here at seven. The Trancy's will be meeting with us around eight."

"The TRANCYS? WHY? No, no I feel even more ill now, father, this is something I can't do."

His tone becomes deep and more serious than I feel comfortable with. I wince in the same way that I have ever since I was a child.

"EIGHT O'CLOCK, CIEL. Goodbye."

I hear the phone slam down and then the sound of the call coming to an abrupt end. It makes me sick not only knowing that I have to see that vile, disgusting family, but that I won't get to see Sebastian until who knows when. I feel nauseous. I wasn't lying about being sick.

I hang the phone up and then stare at my sheets. Wait a minute...

Shit.

Fuck.

FUCK.

Sebastian. I have no way to contact him. He has my number but in the midst of the best morning of my life I forgot to ask for his! What do I do, if I don't let him know then he'll show up here and think that I'm avoiding him. Then he'll be hurt and upset and he'll start hating me oh god what if he exacts revenge and tries to hurt me?! He can sleep with someone, he can take away that virginity that is meant only for me and fucking hand it out on the corner of the street like some willful harlot passing out chlamydia.

I lie on my bed and roll around in the sheets, smelling him as I continue to think up these drastic scenarios. I suffocate my face with the pillow he slept on and then suddenly flail my body and stand straight up in a moment of realization.

"The office..." of course, of course why didn't I think of this? I can just call him at work and everything will be settled and understood and copacetic!

I look to the side and bite my fingertip, pondering some more. No wait. What if he's with a patient? What if I have to leave a message? What if I can't get onto his direct line, what if the phones are out?! Oh god what if he never made it to work and lost his way and I have no idea of the torment he's experiencing?

That's it.

I strip out of my bath robe and pick up the ivory receiver of the phone that rests near my bed. My fingers fumble across the number pad and I'm naked and flustered and slightly dizzy as I speak to the person on the other end.

"Yes, I'm calling to request a taxi - right away."

* * *

I nervously clear my throat as I walk into the familiar building and let the air conditioning hit my face. The cab arrived so quickly that I barely had enough time to get ready. I'm wearing a white dress shirt that is unfortunately buttoned all the way up to hide the enormous bruise that perfectly stains my skin, and my lower half is a complete mess as I opted to wear my black jeans, which I rarely ever wear. It's been so long and I've been so sick lately that they're too loose around my waist. I have no belt so I keep pulling up my pants whenever I feel them slip below the hem of my underwear. Fuck I probably look like some punk kid waiter but I don't even care.

I race to the elevator and get inside. This fucking pulsating feeling of happiness is rushing through me so hard that I bite both of my lips and try to force my smile down as I move from floor to floor. But I can't. I can't keep myself from smiling.

"Come on come on." I look at my reflection in the steel doors and mess my hair a bit more than it is. I turn my face and slap my cheeks and smooth my clothes and dust my shoulders off and smell my own breath and straighten my slutty pants.

There. Perfect.

I almost squeal like a pig when the elevator dings and the doors slide open. I burst out into the hall and almost skip down corridor, turning my head back and checking if I am in fact leaving a trail of blooming flowers in my wake. Much to my chagrin, I am not.

"Good afternoon," I practically dance my way to that lovely creature of a receptionist and lean an elbow against her desk, "and how are we today?"

"O-oh, Mr. Phantomhive! I'm good and you?!" she really is such a doll, and so polite too.

"I'm marvelous" I smile "I have some business with Doctor Michaelis, do you mind if I see him really quick?"

"Ah - he just left with miss Sarah! I believe they were going a little lunch date." She winks. She smiles. She laughs.

I die a little inside.

I'm being punished, I'm being tormented as she stares right at me with those grotesquely green eyes. Her words are a knife in my heart and her soft giggle is the blatant twisting of the blade. I try to breathe, I try to talk, but neither is allowed by my body.

"Oh my are you alright? You look ill..."

Whatever bitch. You make me sick with your words, with your careless speech and your messages of pure fucking hatred. I need to get out of here. I need to remove myself from you and the vile poison which spits from your lips.

I feel as if I can barely walk. My right hand hugs my torso and my left desperately runs through my hair in an act of complete anxiety. What the fuck is wrong with me. I feel dizzy and my mouth feels dry. My mind just keeps cycling through the words and I pick apart that wretched name.

Sarah. Sarah. Tell me who you are so I can judge you. Show me your face so I can laugh in it. Lay your fucking hands on me so I can break every bone in your fucking body. Sarah, whoever you are I can only feel utmost hatred for you.

Before I know it I'm in the elevator and I look at my reflection in the doors as they close. My hair is a mess, my face looks sunken in and my eyes seem heavy. My shirt has wrinkles, my skin is too pale, my waist my god my waist is so fucking tiny that it sickens me. I'm a disgusting pile of shit and my outward appearance reflects the emotions within me.

The cab jolts slightly and the doors slide open. I suddenly feel like I might be overreacting. Maybe, just maybe I'm having a slight moment of insanity wash right through me. The sun from outside shines through the main doors and I step out into the lobby.

What I need right now is a cigarette to calm me down. I feel my pockets and almost hug myself when I feel my lighter and case. I'm just going to sit down, relax, breathe, think things over, and then calm myself and go back upstairs. I'll just wait for him and then everything will be fine. He'll talk to me and explain everything and then we'll go to his office and make out like a couple of teenagers on prom night.

Yeah. I'm fine, I'm fine.

Shit. I almost lost myself. I have a meeting tonight, I can't just lose my composure like this at the drop of a hat. I need to pace myself and toughen up, I have to revert to the me I was before I ever laid eyes on him if I want to get through today.

I close my eyes and breathe as I walk, feeling better from my small internal pep-talk. When my hands hit the door handle I push it out and step into the hot summer afternoon.

My eyelids lift as I dig into my pocket and take out my silver cigarette case. It's warm in my hands but slips right through my fingers when I stop mid-step.

Every single emotion I've felt for the past five minutes comes back a hundred a thousand a million times over. The clattering of my case on the concrete doesn't distract me in the slightest when I see them approach me.

Sebastian, he has his hands in his pockets and a woman by his side. Not just any woman - but that seething snobbish bitch who was all over him weeks ago. My eyes fall to her body and she's in the tightest dress known to mankind. Her legs are perched on heels made for a sticky strip club floor and her hands...her arms. They're wrapped around his elbows, clinging for dear life.

My lips part slightly and I swallow because I feel so sick that I could collapse. What kills me a mere second later is that he smiles. She smiles. She rests her head temporarily on his shoulder and then cocks it back to cackle unattractively.

They walk right up to me and they both notice me at exactly the same time. They're in sync and I feel bubbling heat collect within me.

"Phantomhive! My, what a crazy coincidence - we were just talking about you!" She giggles and my fists clench.

"Ciel," his deep voice makes my eyes look right up at him. He slides his arm out of her grasp and shakes his head, "this isn't what you th-"

"Oh come on, Sebastian." She's about a foot away from me and slumps her dirty hooker hand onto my shoulder. "There's no need to explain to your former patient what you and I do on our free time, right?"

The world is spinning at an abnormal pace, my tongue is not working and my heart feels like it's just been cooked and eaten. My eyes close and I don't even shrug her bony hand off of me because I'm frozen in place.

"Stop it." He scolds her and removes her hand from my body. The back of his fingers lightly touch my damp forehead and he mumbles to himself.

His touch makes me feel worse and I finally stagger to the side. I suddenly cough and my vision becomes as impaired as my hearing. I'm not sure what's happening to me but I just feel the sun blaring down on my back and my stomach begin to turn.

I hear them mumbling words as if I'm underwater and for some reason my goal is to reach the girl. I'm weak, I'm nothing, she's better than me and she knows that right now violence is the last thing on my mind.

I reach out to her and she says something, I don't know what, and tugs on my arm. I hear a deeper voice - his, shouting something and trying to push her back.

But I don't want her to go anywhere. I want her in my arms so I clench onto her tight dress and lower my dizzied head.

She screams and this time I hear her.

"NO! Get AWA-"

The rest of whatever came out of her mouth was replaced with the sound of vomit gushing out of me and being directed solely at her beautiful beautiful face.

I have a single coherent thought about the sudden deterioration of my health, and for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I black out once again – this time due to something much more severe than alcohol.

..

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

 

_"How does one obtain eternal happiness without breaking the law?"_

* * *

Something is happening to me, although I can't necessarily put my finger on it. It feels like I'm being slowly nudged from the pulls of sleep, yet my brain is unable to provide me with any information as to what I'm feeling - until I hear something a bit out of the ordinary.

The soft ringing of a phone. The way in which it rings is foreign to my memory, and that simple thought alone tugs my mind into the present-time. My senses hit me one by one and I feel my tongue as it rolls around in my mouth. Despite the strange flavor of mint, I groan at the thought of how dry and disgusting it feels to swallow. My nose is the next sense to grace me with its presence, and as I inhale I smell two things. Laundry detergent and food.

Where the hell am I?

"Mnn" I hear my own voice, I feel my groan vibrate within my throat and then a small cough causes my eyelids to finally lift open and peel away from my heavy, sleep-deprived eyes.

Bright, unforgiving sunshine invades and conquers the innocence of my pupils and I almost hiss at the amount of light washing over me. I feel my body turn and I'm now on my stomach, burying my head in soft, fragrant piles of several cushions. Finally putting two and two together, I now realize I'm on a bed.

My eyes snap open.

My arms detangle from under me and I prop myself up on both of my elbows, the rest of my body still flush with the bed. I see several things that bombard me with confusion.

My first thought is that I have no idea where I am. My second - I have to get out of here.

The bed that I am on is half the size of my own. The headboard is simple and a dark, obviously faux wood. The sheets are soft and deep grey in color, and the walls are a pale, flat brown. I let my eyes dart from object to object and my heartbeat increases when I take in every single aspect of the room.

It's clean, spotless. There are professionally-framed art prints on the walls, a small nightstand with a digital alarm clock on it, and when I turn onto my back I swallow at the sight of the rest of the room.

Books.

There are about six enormous floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with books. They're all very neat and arranged in some sort of specified order, and I swallow when I hear a noise from somewhere within the apartment...or what I'm guessing is an apartment. The room is large but there is only a single window in the corner, and I am on the second floor as revealed by the view, so my assumptions must be correct.

The laundry I smelled came from the sheets and pillows, the food in the air is something that has just been cooked, I'm guessing. But then I sense another more distinct fragrance that comes into play.

It's Sebastian.

There's no denying that scent, I could pinpoint that aroma like I was born to be attracted to it. It calms me, and everything starts to make sense. I'm in his apartment. I'm on his bed. Alone.

I look down and notice my body for the first time. Somewhat not surprised, I'm not entirely dressed.

"Hmm..." I tug on the clothes I'm wearing because not a single article is mine. I have black briefs on and a black t-shirt, and that's it. I inspect the band of the underwear and snap it against my skin. They're not my brand, nor my size, but it somehow makes me a bit happy. I smile.

The smile on my face is a temporary visitor when it suddenly flattens into a straight ill-begotten expression when I start to remember just how I got here. That fucking bitch of a woman. That whore, that wretched little siren she usurped all that was precious to me and like some dirty thief she flaunted her stolen wares right in front of my innocent, unsuspecting face.

My fingers clench the sheets below me and I lick my lips in complete disgust at the thought of her. And what of him? Is he any better? Lying to me, leading me on - pretending to want me? Just who does that? Do you lack morals, do you brush off other's feelings just like that? Must you act out on your desires without thinking of the possibility of completely tarnishing and ruining the emotions of your admirers? Do you not think, do you not feel, are you human, are you just - are you even fucking capable realizing how your adulterous actions could deeply wound others? You live under the guise of a good-natured person, a doctor, an innocent man, yet you do such vile and conniving things. Why? And to me of all people. Someone who has never let their guard down, who has never given anything to anyone. You took advantage of me with your greed and that's something I'm not ever going to forget.

The deception, the fraud, I see it now. Not only do I see it but I feel it and taste it - I hear it.

I hear the phone once again and this time someone answers it. It's him. His voice is low but oh so deep that it beckons me towards his presence even though my thoughts of him are now stained with ill-will.

My feet hit the beige carpeting and when I stand I immediately fall back down onto the bed. How my body has become this weak, I'm not sure - but I try again. I succeed and put all thoughts of my deteriorating frame into temporary storage.

When I get up I stick my hand under my shirt and rub my abdomen because it hurts. Shit, another flash.

I vomited on her.

A very minor, very very small laugh cracks through my lips and I smile momentarily. Good work, Ciel Phantomhive. You rarely disappoint me. Oh how I wish I would not have lost consciousness only to be witness to such a glorious event. I wonder how my insides tasted, I must remember to ask her whenever I lay eyes on her wretched form in the future. I hope the acidity in my stomach burned a hole in her cold, rotting heart, the bitch.

"Ciel is fine."

I pause when I reach the door that is barely left open. My name, I hear it fall from his lips and I swallow when I slowly stick my head outside.

The first thing I notice are boxes everywhere. It's a stark contrast from the decorated room, and I assume he hasn't even finished unpacking. More books, housewares, clothing, all being held in containers and some even strewn about. There is no hallway, the room door immediately opens to the back of the living room. But he's not there. My eyes slide even further and my body betrays me when I see him.

He's as I've never ever seen him. Fresh out of the shower. Wet. Mind-numbingly sexy. His hair is soaked, his entire upper body is bare and sheen and melts all of me completely. As he balances the phone on his shoulder he holds a white towel that wraps tightly around the part of his body I've never been witness to.

I grow nervous, my heart begins to palpitate rapidly, I want to run to him to attack him to press against him but I quickly take control of those unrealistic emotions and just freeze in place and continue to eavesdrop.

"He's fine, I showered him and put him to sleep. Yes. I know. I've made him lunch already."

My face becomes hot when I lift my arm and smell my own skin. Shit. I'm clean. He  _did_  wash me. The embarrassment, the overwhelming feeling of wanting my existence to end, my body to deplete, my soul to dissipate into nothingness god I hate this I hate who I've become, what I've become, everything.

"I know he was upset but you can't blame his body for doing what it did, he was sick – do you think he was in a position to purposely do something like that to you?"

He's talking to her. She called him, she called his house. How long have they known one another? Have they been dating? Is he really a virgin? Is he even a therapist? Who is this man?!

"Miss Taylor, I can assure you that he is sorry and I completely apologize on his behalf."

Okay, so maybe they don't know each other that well. That doesn't mean they haven't smacked their disgusting bodies together. Not that his body is disgusting, no, but I mean paired with hers I just can't take the torture.

"No, I don't want to tell him."

What was that…what did he just say?

"Because if I tell him why I was with you he'd get upset, and I don't want that. Plus what I did wasn't right, I shouldn't have made that deal with you."

I knew it! I knew it that slimy maladjusted conniving little snake he's trying to play me isn't he. He thinks he can fuck with me? He wants to fuck with me? With Ciel fucking Phantomhive? Try to fuck with me try it try it you bitch fuck me fuck me do it.

"He's in a really fragile place right now, and I don't want to ruin anything. Mhmm, no, I know I understand he isn't my patient anymore –"

He waves one of his hands in the air in what seems to be annoyance, but I'm not too sure.

"Sarah, I really have more important things to attend to right now. I'll see you next week. Yes. Yes, fine. Thank you, goodbye."

Next week? What are they doing? Where are they going? On some little fucking date on some fuckfest night of disgusting heterosexual fucking that I'm not supposed to fucking find out about? Gross. He's lucky I have zero contents in my stomach or I would spew everything out right now on his shitty mediocre carpet.

"Oh god." I look up at his words and jerk back when he turns around and notices me. I must have startled him or something because he drops his phone, tries to grab his towel, and just fumbles in general at the sight of me.

"C-ciel I didn't see you there, did you just wake up?" He tries so hard to claim decency but he can't. This little cutesy innocent act of his is something I won't fall victim to again.

"Yeah, I did."

"Come over here I've made you something to eat."

"No," I fold my arms and I can feel my lip curl into a snarl, "you come over here".

I don't even know what I'm saying or doing or thinking. I just want him here in front of my face so I can yell at him and talk down to him and make him feel like the pile of shit he's turned me into.

I tell him to come to me and despite his blatantly apparent shame he walks right over to me. The closer he gets to me the more clouded my anger becomes and it unwillingly gets pushed aside by this feeling of complete happiness. I hate it and I try to fight it off but by the time I think I can do it he's right in front of me and I even step back to shield myself from the invasion of his beautiful fucking presence.

I spot every drop of water that graces the fine curves of his flesh. I see them trickle down and merge with others and move faster and faster down his torso, past his naval, below his hips and collect right above that wretched beast of a thing that I want to ride like a fucking gay cowboy at a rodeo. Fuck.

"Ciel," he rubs my forearm and lifts his eyebrows in a worrisome expression, "why don't you lie down and I'll bring you your food and we'll talk about everything, okay?"

Fucking therapists.

"I don't want to talk about anything I want to leave."

"What? No, please don't go. Look just let me get dressed and then you can eat and then leave if you want after that."

"But I want to leave NOW."

"No" his voice is suddenly demanding and before I can even THINK of spitting back a reply, my body is lifted right from its place. He slings me over his shoulder and I yelp and claw at his back to try and steady myself.

"What are you doing you – ah! Let me go!"

Now, I'm twenty-seven years old, I'm a grown-ass man. But some fluke in my biological makeup just keeps sending me these signals to laugh and I have no idea why. I let one escape simply for posterity and I pound on his back as my upper body swings with each step of his.

He lowers his body and then lets mine fall right onto the mattress. I have both arms raised above my head and his palm presses against the flesh of my hips as my over-sized shirt rides up to my naval. I can't help but bite my lip when he bends over me and whispers in my ear as his bedside manners are way too advanced than they should ever exist to be.

"You're weak," his warm breath makes me shut my eyes and I clench onto the sheets because I secretly want him to ravage me, "so please eat for me, okay?"

I'll eat your dick for breakfast lunch and dinner, every day of the week for the rest of my life if you wanted me to. I'll do anything you ask right now, that's how much control I've given you over me even though you're a fucking liar.

"Fine"

His cheek gently presses against mine and he breathes out in relief "thank you" his low voice sends chills through my frail body and I can literally feel myself heat up.

My eyes follow him as he gets up from the bed and I touch his knee right as he's about to turn around.

"Hey"

"Hm?"

"Let me see it." I nudge my eyebrows as I glance at his crotch and then look back up at him, my hands now resting behind my head because I just want to look like a pervert, I don't know.

His face morphs into this sheepish expression and he steps backwards and frantically licks his lips.

"W-what, no, no I can't."

"I showed you mine, now show me yours." The childish rule of thumb comes out of my mouth so cockily that my cock cocks back in anticipation of looking at that cock of his. Fuck. Dick. Let me see that dick. Fucking thick flopping slab I felt I need to know what's under that towel I need to see what I'm dealing with here I need dick cock penis meat meat feed me your fucking meat.

"I'm embarrassed," his eyes slide to the side and he swallows, "I'm really embarrassed, I can't right now".

"I can assure you that you have absolutely nothing to worry about." Penis penis penis.

My smile scares him and his fingers clench on to his towel like I'd rip it right from him, and you know what it's a good idea. He walks backwards slowly and clears his throat more loudly than he should.

"Hrm, um, I-I'll be right back, stay there please okay..."

I feel like when I'm left alone I think rationally, I pick up on certain aspects and behaviors and process them and evaluate them like a normal human being. But when he is next to me I act like some horny teenage girl, and my mind reverts to this juvenile mental retardation that I simply can't control. As soon as he is out of my sight I'm left not thinking of his dick, but instead of his betrayal and of that woman. I mean I didn't even question him about it, about anything, yet I asked to see his dick what is wrong with me? He did want to talk though...maybe it was about his affair with his patient? But then why did he have his lips wrapped around my cock mere hours ago?

My stomach growls like there's something caged in there and it interrupts my rapid-fire flow of questioning. I can't even remember the last time I ate. It must have been about six days ago, maybe five. In the midst of such a wild depression the only thing I could consume besides self-loathing and sorrow were numerous bottles of fine wine. I'm weak, I can feel it. My breath is short and my muscles ache, my mind is as tired as my body and my persistence for whatever it is my ex-therapist and I have is slowly fading.

He's killing me and he doesn't even know it.

"Here" he walks into the room moments later and I sigh at the pair of pajama pants and t-shirt that he's wearing. The next thing I notice is this enormous silver tray that he holds steadily with both hands "sit up so you can eat".

I sit up. So I can eat, apparently.

"I made you a turkey sandwich and some broccoli and cheddar soup, and I brought you a bottle of water - finish all of it." He rests the tray over my lap and he looks right me like he couldn't be any more serious. "ALL of it".

"I'm not some dense child." I snap back at his doting and my hand grabs half of the sandwich. I stare at its contents for only a second and then sigh before taking a large bite just to appease him.

He sits on the bed and places his hand on my knee.

Sudden flowers and sparkles and rainbows and the gayest shit you can imagine bubble and burst from deep within me like I was just anally fucked by the horn of some mystical food- creating unicorn and I close my eyes to keep them from shooting fruity beams of pleasure all over the place.

I die a little inside because my mouth is having multiple orgasms from whatever the fuck kind of holy bread it is that I'm eating. Each time I chew, every morsel I savor makes me want to just moan and writhe and inevitably fuck this sandwich into inanimate oblivion.

"So...how does it taste?" He squeezes my knee and I practically deepthroat the rest of it as I stare right at him. My neck cranes back and my throat contracts like the inner workings of a duck and I just want this inside me so bad that I wolf it down like it's my last meal.

I breathe. Twice, just to compose myself.

"This is the worst sandwich I've ever eaten in my entire life." I finish swallowing the sex which is that sandwich and lie right to his face because I hate how deceptive he's become.

"It looks like you're enjoying it," he smiles, "try the soup, it'll make you feel better".

My mouth is like a vacuum and after tasting a tiny half-spoonful of the soup it falls victim to the black-hole which is my hunger. Ugh, jesus christ this is so hot and salty and delicious it's like god just masturbated and shot his shit into a bowl and that is what I'm swallowing, holy fucking cum-nectar.

"Slow down, Ciel, you'll burn yourself." Fucking German interrupts my gluttonous actions and I let the spoon fall into the almost empty bowl.

I lick the side of my mouth and it reminds me of his dick, it reminds me that I've never had one in my mouth, and it reminds me that we're alone together, on his bed, right smack in the middle of fucking season if you ask me and man am I in heat.

"Why won't you sleep with me?" My eyes narrow as I interrogate him.

He lifts his hand from my knee and averts his gaze. "You know I'm a virgin, it's not easy."

"Are you?"

"Am I what - a virgin?"

"Yes"

"You know I am, why would I lie about that?"

"Well you're fucking around with trashy women, how would you expect anyone to believe you?"

He makes this face of anger and confusion and then looks right at me. I've never seen him make this face and I tense up because he looks so different.

"I am not doing anything with her, I'm not lying about that or anything else for that matter."

"Ha" I laugh sarcastically and insultingly because I'm insecure and I don't know how to deal with my emotions and I fear rejection and I don't want to be hurt even more than I already am so I just revert into this mean, crude asshole that nobody likes "that's hard to believe when I see you arm in arm with a whore. Nice act though - the virgin therapist who helps sex addicts, man, they can make a show about you."

"It's not an act."

I place the tray of food to my side and fold my arms. "Right, as if someone like you could keep that thing of yours caged for twenty-seven years," I scoff, "can't even pass up pussy on your lunch hour can you?"

"And why would I do something like that when you and I were being...intimate just a few hours before?!" His face is getting red and his deep voice is becoming louder and louder as I irritate him more and more.

"Intimate? HA! You sucked my dick, just like you sucked hers."

"I never did anything with her! And it took a lot for me to do that with you, I've never done that before, I'm telling the truth."

"Bullshit! No one does what you fucking did on their first try, that's impossible!"

"That was my first time - I did that with you because I care about you and all I did was think about you while we were apart, I don't do that with just anyone, Ciel."

Liar. Fucking liar, as if I didn't see you arm in arm with that fucking bitch or hear your entire fucking phone conversation, like my eyes betrayed me, my mind made everything up - like I wasn't fucking there. My stomach turns at the thought and I stare at him. He's as serious as he can be. His lips are flushed and his eyebrows are slightly slanted in regards to his anger. I look down and see that he has both of his fists balled up and resting on top of his thighs. I think I know what's happening.

I'm scared of losing someone for the first time in my entire life. I'm hateful and jealous and out of control and I don't know how to deal with all of this at once. What am I to do, kidnap him and lock him up in my cellar? How do you posses another human like that? How does one obtain eternal happiness without breaking the law?

"If you like me so much then why don't you sleep with me?"

He shifts his body and scoots closer to me. He leans forward and grabs my hand and the feeling is completely foreign to me. Hand holding...I don't even...why does it make me feel like there are a million birds living in my throat, like I can't even speak or move or look at anything but our fingers intertwining like they were formed to fit right into one another.

"I don't think we feel the same way about each other." His voice is so soft that it barely overrides the loud pulsating rushes of blood I can hear thumping in my ears. "I want to sleep with you because I have...these...because I have feelings for you."

I feel like I can't breathe and as he places his other hand over our attachment I feel sick because I fear his next words. It's going to start with 'but' this or 'but' that, but what? But I've fallen for my other patient? But I like women more than men? But I'm not gay? But I dislike your body? Personality? What, what is it?

"But...you only want to have sex with me because of your addiction. You just need a fix, and that's understandable but that's not something I can do nor recommend - I can't give myself to someone who doesn't feel the same way."

How dare he.

How  _DARE_  he come up with such an asinine assumption!

I'm so taken aback that I could literally pull out the figurative knife that sticks right through my heart. Everything hits me full force and I'm not sure if it was the sustenance I obtained from my first meal or the absolute rage from my discontent but I have energy I have adrenaline and in a flash I attack him. My fingers wrap around his biceps and I slam his back onto the mattress with such violence that he winces in pain. I crawl on top of him and hang my head right above his. My eyes narrow, my arms are shaking, my face is on fire and my mouth becomes burdened with the expulsion of truths that I never wished to reveal.

"You inconsiderate son of a bitch. You have absolutely no idea what I went through. You turned me into someone I hate, you flipped over the rock which is my life and let all the bugs come crawling right out of me. When I was apart from you I didn't sleep I didn't eat I couldn't think or work or breathe or move, you fed me this poison and you immobilized every part of me! I harbored a million emotions that I never felt all at once and above everything else I had zero idea of how to deal with such a drastic change. You made me weak and susceptible and you tore down every single defense I had - yet it's so easy for you to pass me off as a w-whore, isn't it? It's so fucking easy!"

My fingers dig deeper into his skin and I close my eyes when I feel this bombardment of shame wash over me as I recollect all the men I've ever pursued. My voice has become as shaky as my body and I swallow my own self-hatred to try and calm myself down. In the next second, my eyes well with what I can only guess are tears, and I immediately open them because I can't even remember the last time I cried.

I see a blur of his throat and I feel warm droplets streaking down my even warmer cheek. It makes me more upset and I hate revealing this much of myself to anyone - especially me.

"N-no, Ciel, let my arms go, please - I'm so sorry. You're absolutely right I'm sorry."

I can't even look at his face, and I don't.

"You say I only want you because I'm addicted to sex. Yet you only want me because you're a therapist and you want to fix me. Because I'm your first. That's all it is, isn't it? I heard your phone conversation with your girl. The deal you made - the future plans, everything. But you know what? I'm through with all of this wallowing and depression. The more I think about you, the more my body deteriorates and if I'm in your presence any longer I'll just end up falling on the floor and never having the option to even wake back up."

My fingers lift one by one and finally remove themselves from his arms. I straighten my back, still on my knees and it just generally hurts to breathe right now. It bothers me that I don't even have pants on and I frantically search the room. I locate my wallet, keys and phone and when I see my slacks folded neatly on a chair next to my shoes this relief washes over me. I can escape this now.

"Wait" I hear the slap of skin against skin before I feel that crazy grip on my arm. His large hand wraps around my frail wrist and he pulls me down, slamming my chest against his so hard that it knocks the wind out of me. My nose buries deep into his shoulder and I inhale that scent that starves me once again. I want to live in a chamber where this is pumped into the atmosphere at a constant rate just to sustain me. I try to lift my head but I can't because he takes his other hand and presses it gently behind the back of my neck.

"None of that is true, I don't think you're a whore, I'm not just in this because I'm your therapist. Yes, it's true I want to help you but I still want you around me." He sighs and my chest mimics his movements unwillingly. My mind goes numb momentarily when he nudges his nose into my neck and smells me. "I want to be sure that you're not just having withdrawals."

"I'm not having withdrawals you jerk," I whisper, "I just want know what it's like to have sex with you. You're not like anyone else you know, so I'm practically a virgin at this as well."

He chuckles and it instantly pisses me off. My hands press against the mattress and I lift my upper body and stare right at him. "What the fuck was that laugh for?"

"Nothing, nothing." He sticks his arm under my shirt and rubs my back like he knows how good it feels. "You just have all the experience here while I know nothing."

Sure did look like you knew how to swallow a dick not too long ago.

"Keep rubbing my back and I'll rip your clothes off with my teeth and force you to fuck me."

What do you know, he immediately slips his hand out and turns his head to the side in embarrassment. His hair is still damp from his shower and it falls over his jaw in this way that drives me crazier than I already am. This position is making me forget the entire conversation we just had and I stare at those fuckable lips of his and slide my ass down to his crotch because fuck it that's why.

"Why are you so scared of feeling good?" My back curls and I just start grinding against him with no shame whatsoever.

"Mmm," I moan in his ear and give his temple a soft kiss, "there it is".

"Ah, please don't." He breathes out but doesn't fight me because surprise surprise my ass dragging across the length of his fat dick feels amazing and there's no denying it.

"Ciel, nn, you're not in any condition...to... be doing anything this rigorous."

I fall for him all over again and I pivot my hips back and forth even harder than before. "You think this is rigorous? I can show you rigorous."

The bed is squeaking and creaking and my mouth is letting out small grunts that I can't control because he's right – I  _need_  him. I need this I need it I need it I want it so fucking badly.

"STOP"

_Shit_

He throws me off of him, our bodies rolling as my back bounces on the mattress like we're in a fucking wrestling match. He has this look in his eye like he's going to fuck me in two and I'm not scared, no, because I know what's on his mind. He wants relief, he wants to fuck the tension right out of him and pump it directly into me and the feeling is completely mutual. He breathes through his nose and licks his lips and I can see his collar bone peeking out through the neck of his shirt and my dick is so hard that I can't even think straight. This is what sex should be, this right here – this moment in time, this foreplay, this dominance. Give it to me, stop analyzing every single nuance stop running the pros and cons through your head just fuck me already show me how much of a man you fucking are.

"We can't have sex right now, so please –  _please_  – stop torturing me like this."

My dreams are completely shattered. They're crushed and broken and kicked around like garbage on the side of the street. It's as if I was told something equally horrific like 'I can't have sex with men' or 'I don't have a dick' or 'I'll die if my penis slides inside of you'. Any of those, pick one, that's how I feel at this very moment.

"Why NOT?! WHY?  **WHY NOT**? I don't buy that bullshit about waiting! You KNOW I fucking want you, you KNOW I haven't been with anyone in over a month and you sure as hell fucking know that we BOTH want to do this so why are YOU torturing US?!"

"I already told you!" He forces his body off of me and stands up, his hands covering his face as he speaks. "I'm just not ready for this yet. If you can't accept that answer then go have sex with one of your many suitors."

If he were in front of my face I would slap him. I would punch him. My fist would wreck his pretty little mouth and I would watch carelessly as he bled. He thinks I'm dirty, that's what this is all about. He knows I've been soiled and he doesn't want to touch garbage like me.

It hurts me, I admit it. I feel sick and disgusted not only at the situation but at myself, my life, at everything I've ever touched. I get it now.

"Fine" my face is emotionless as I rise from the bed and walk towards my things. I put on my pants like I've done a million times in other men's rooms, and I grab my things one by one, hurriedly placing them within the safety of my back pocket. I don't see my shirt as I guess it's been soiled, so I quickly put my shoes on and tie my laces. The room is dead quiet and I don't even know if he's still standing there or if he left or if he finally figured out that I figured  _him_  out.

"Ciel, what are you…"

I turn around and walk right past him, never making eye contact.

"I know why you don't want to touch me, I completely understand. You want me to go fuck someone else then fine – that's exactly what I'll do."

"Ciel, wait, no that's not it."

I walk out of the room and I can hear him follow me.

I run.

I panic when his footsteps get louder and louder and it feels like I'm having déjà vu. Right as I get to the door he slams his hand against it just like he did back in his office. He rests his chin on my left shoulder, breathing hard, breathing shakily as if he's about to say something that he's never told me before.

"Look" he begs me and presses his lips onto my neck in desperation. "I can't have sex with you now but you're right – I want to. Badly. You can't leave. I'll do anything. Anything but that. I don't want you to touch anyone else, please believe me, Ciel."

I hear shuffling as he removes his face away from my neck and I can't really be hearing what I  _think_  I'm hearing…can I? No. No, of course not.

"Don't go I'm begging you, look…is this you want? Will this prove that I don't think ill of you in any way?"

My heart feels like it's trying to crawl right out of my throat when I hear clothing drop to the ground. Time slows down, my thought processes cease to rectify any kind of information and I stare at the door without even blinking, I don't even think I breathe.

He removes his hand and it prompts me to swallow, because I know I have to turn around. I  _want_  to turn around. I want to sate my curiosity and convince myself that this isn't really happening to me.

I lick both of my lips and then bite them, pressing them together as if I know they'll let something escape. My body slowly turns and my head is looking towards the floor.

I first see his bare feet.

And then his legs.

Knees, thighs. Thighs that I've never been witness to, thighs that are firm and seem like they can hold the weight of my body and then some.

I blink, no…I think I close my eyes completely and lift my head. The lapse of time must have been about two seconds but to me it felt like an eternity. I should know what I'm expecting but no one can possibly understand what this means to me. This man – he's perfection incarnate. He's everything I want and everything I need. If I find out that he's the one, what do I do? How do I continue living? And if he's not – then what? No. He's the one no matter what, he has to be. Nothing else matters.

When I finally let my eyes open all of my assumptions become absolute truths.

He's completely naked.

...and I think I'm in love.

..

 


	13. Chapter 13

" _To fuck._ _To be fucked."_

 

* * *

What is a dick?

Is it merely a human organ? A beautifully crafted mass of tissue that can engorge itself with blood, that can swell and harden and curve and then push itself into whatever it pleases and dominate it completely? Do all men share such prominence? Do we all possess such mastery, such precise, obvious supremacy – do we even know the power that rests between our own two legs? Have we come to this rational, all-knowing conclusion that every male on this tiny planet that orbits in the vastness of the entire universe has the same level of authority and strength and relevance?

No.

Contrary to the falsified words of the masses, all men are in fact not created equal. We do not share the same rights or privileges, the same endowments. No, for when we are birthed into this harsh realization of life we hold no bars on what we look like, how we develop, how we grow. The development of our bodies and the rate at which we mature is something controlled not by us, but by the rapidly increasing deterioration of our bodies by the passing of time. Some men, out of consequence, out of genetics, are born to grace the human race with their intense radiation of perfection. They grow powerful, robust. Their muscles strengthen and their bodies harden. Just as their sexual organs justify their place in the hierarchy of beauty their mere form is a vision of condensed flawlessness. But who possess such an advantage?

If we were to speak of hierarchy, though, as an example – I would be at the top, there is no doubting that. But when my eyes fall onto the unclothed body of this man in front of me, all of my rationalities and research and placement of every man I've ever seen becomes pushed and shoved so far beneath his presence that even I am admittedly dragged way, way down into the realm of sub-par perfection.

He is made like a well-crafted machine, he is sculpted and artfully created, he is what every man wishes to be. This is something that I never prepared for, but always desired. In my quest to connect with this man I never even thought about how such a sight would ever impact me.

I can feel my tongue roll out and lick my bottom lip, bring it into my mouth and bite it between my teeth so that I can control the urges of my lips. He's that potent to me.

His skin is left untouched, unexplored by hands of sinners, of men, of women, of anyone who's ever wanted to taste the nectar that he so innocently displays to everyone he comes into contact with. We are like starving animals and he is the most tantalizing meal we've ever encountered. His handsome face draws you in, his charm and his words tempt you for more, his personality sucks all of your attention and drains every morsel of your will. I am a slave to it all just as so many have been I'm sure. But he keeps the core of himself shielded and hidden, locked up to the world for what, for who? Who is so privileged, so fortunate?

Me. I'm the exalted one. I am the one who gets to bask in the glory of his being, to smell him, to feel, to touch, to see him as he was when he first came into this unforgiving world.

To fuck. To be fucked.

His dick is a vision of perfection that graces me with its complete authority. He's thick - his shaft, even though unaroused, is wide and smooth. That main vein that beckons to be licked traces across the length and creates a ribbed work of fine art. The flush curvature of his head is a dark shade of reddened flesh and I am a witness to this immaculate organ as it begins to harden. I am merely staring at him, in a trance, but he is becoming something else completely.

My eyes slide up and down his cock as if they were my own two hands, stimulating his sex to stand at full attention and show me just how stiff it can get. I see that bulbous tip begin to beat, I see it bob up and down ever so slightly in tune to the thumping of his heart and begin to grow just as mine is.

But our erections are not even in the same realm of desperation.

While I am hard, he is made of fucking stone. In what seems like a split second his dick triples in size from its original state and shows me its true form.

He's long, there's no denying that. Longer than I expected, longer than I could ever dream. But he's not  _too_  lengthy that you'd scowl, no, he is just all my fantasies turned into one amazing form of a man. His shaft does that thing where it curves slightly upward as if he was made to fit right into me and you know what, he was - he was made just for me. My fucking hole twitches because I can only imagine what that ungodly thing feels like as it squeezes its way inside of me. Pain, pleasure, euphoria, I want all of it - I  _need_  all of it. I have to have him. His flesh continues to swell and fatten, it makes my body shake and my mouth water and it has rendered me completely speechless. My head is foggy – my dick is hurting, my limbs are light.

What am I to do? What do I say, how do I act?

"C-ciel…"

His beautiful voice is what makes me really melt, and my eyes roll up to meet his handsome face, completely flushed red – all the way past his ears and down his neck. In that moment, when I see the expression he holds and the way his eyes seem scared, his lips nervous, his hair disheveled and his voice deep and unsure – my body moves without my will.

Both of my knees gravitate towards the floor and they hit the ground so hard it's as if my legs just completely gave out. My back crashes against the door and I'm there with my hips out, my thighs spread, my body shaking and before I know it my hands begin to magnetize towards my crotch. I'm still staring at his now eye-level erection, and I unzip myself while he grows even more nervous.

"Wait, Ciel…hold on. Don't... _ah._ "

I don't answer him because I'm too busy shuffling my pants and briefs down to my knees. Once the fabric hits the floor I moan in relief. My dick is aching, it's dying to be touched so I grant its wish and squeeze the base, moving the shaft up and down as I vulgarly check him out. I make a tight circle with my thumb and index finger and slide my hand up until I reach the ridge of my head. I'm dripping wet and I can feel precum dribbling out of my slit and falling in slow strands down onto the carpet.

My mouth falls open and I swallow, staring at that hard fucking mess of a man in front of me. He's only about three feet away, and as I fuck myself with my fist my arm begins to jerk back and forth. My body shakes along with it, and my mouth is suddenly feeling very empty.

I've never sucked a dick before. I've never had a craving for it, I've never had the urge to feast on such a thing until I first met this man. His cock was meant to visit my mouth and reside inside of me I just know it – we were made for each other. I swirl my tongue around, licking my teeth and the roof of my mouth, trying to fantasize what he tastes like and what he fucks like.

I don't even realize that I haven't said a word to him. I begin to make small grunts, very soft whines and a mixture of sharp moans and heavy breaths. When I make these sounds his dick twitches and my hand moves faster. He's wet now too, his cock is screaming at me and telling me to turn around, to open my mouth, my legs, to obey its every command and fuck I want to trust me, I do. I want to attack him and push him down and mount myself onto him, riding him as hard as I fucking can, having him throw me on my back, show me how good of a fuck I know he is, claw his shoulders, bite his neck, scream as loud as my throat allows me to.

"Mm, S-sebastian,  _ah_ …" I didn't do that on purpose, I swear. I didn't even realize I called out to him. It was so soft it was barely even audible.

But he hears it.

Not only does he hear it, but it causes him to lift his hands and pull at his hair. He shuts both of his eyes tight and then slides his palms over his face as if he's panicking or is in the most uncomfortable throes of embarrassment. I'm wrong though, because he is neither.

He's horny, I just know it. He wants it. Bad.

"Sebastian,  _nn_ , Sebastian…" this time it's on purpose. I pump myself and watch his blush darken even more. I feel like I'm trying to reel the sex-beast right out of him and trust me I'm trying as hard as I can.

"Let me see your f-face." I breathe out seductively "let me see those eyes of yours".

"No!" he buries his head in his hands and his shyness turns me into a fucking animal.

I don't know what comes over me but I lunge at him like a fucking sex-crazed maniac. I pull at his legs and he slams his back onto the floor, shaking the ground beneath us. His long body is in shock and he's grunting in pain and disbelief, but all I can see is that fucking thick pillar sticking straight up before me, bobbing up and down, beckoning my lips and testing my self-control.

"Come here." I whisper and crawl right on top of him. I push his dick against the flesh of his stomach when my body moves in between his legs and my torso slides up to meet his trembling chest.

For the first time I feel his naked cock against my skin and it infuses me with desire. I watch as his now uncovered face reveals those gorgeous eyes of his and for a split second even I feel nervous.

I can feel the heat just radiating off of his cock and pushing into my belly with such fucking force that it's like being stabbed in the most erotic way possible. My palms land flat on the floor right by his broad shoulders and I align our faces, his perfect fucking lips mere inches from my own.

"H-hurts." he winces and I'm pretty sure he's talking about that swinging protrusion of meat that is his cock. I lift my hips and give his erection room to breathe, only to be distracted by that mouth once again. It's freshly bitten, wounded by his own teeth and flush with blood just like the other part of him that I want to devour.

We stare at one another, our breaths short and heavy and I lean down and take his cheek into the palm of my left hand. His face is warm and sweaty and his hair is tangled and beautiful in this moment of complete frustration. My thumb swipes at his skin and I place a soft kiss on his lips because I am drawn in by their mere shape.

I believe I did the right thing, for his actions validate my own. He gives in to me and grants me the presence of his soft lips, he shows me his consent, and I can only hope that it means he wants all of me as well.

His large hands grasp the back of my neck and he softly messes my hair with his fingers. He opens his mouth slightly, letting our tongues nip at one another in between one of the strangest kisses I've ever exchanged. His biceps flank my head, his immaculately sculpted flesh is all around me, my pants pool still at my knees - I'm ready for him I want him yet he kisses me in such a way that I don't understand him.

I feel like he's hiding something...no. More like he's holding back. I want more of him so I roll my hips slightly until both of our erections finally touch, all while I practically pry his mouth open with my tongue.

"Mmph" he softly whines as my dick is overshadowed by his incredible fucking girth. His jaw finally loosens and his eyes become lidded by his lashes when we begin to explore each other's mouths.

Unsure hands slide down my shoulders, past my torso, past my hips until he stops right above the swell of my ass. I can feel his motions getting more jerky, almost out of control, and he presses his digits into my flesh as if restraining himself.

His virgin touch is so hot that it practically sets me on fire. My dick is watering almost as much as my mouth and as he rolls his tongue over my own I can feel my desperate tip slip all over his because we're just that fucking wet.

We're ready.

Our mouths suckle and slurp and make the hottest noises known to mankind. I want to close my eyes but they selfishly decide to lock onto that reddened hue that dusts over the flesh of his cheeks. I can't get enough of it, I could watch a show of just his face for the rest of my life, talking, laughing, his expression becoming nervous, dark with embarrassment, his eyes his lips I love them all.

Shit.

I separate our mouths because of something that I just now confessed within my own mind. For the second time. There's no denying it, I've fallen completely for this man. From his nerdy dress to his shy demeanor, I am completely infatuated with him and I haven't even fucked him yet. That says a lot - trust me. Not one soul has had the privilege of being loved by me, ever. It scares me just how much I would change for him. I would do anything for him, whenever he pleased, wherever he wanted. I want to be like this with him always, I want to share the same breath as him and feel his body under me, over me, behind me. I may not be experienced in love and an expert in lust, but I know for a fact if all I cared about was his dick then I wouldn't be staring at his face right now. I want him, it's true but I want him differently than I've ever wanted anyone else. He's unusual, he's beautiful, he makes me want to improve everything about myself because he's just that influential to me.

"Uaah" I breathe out when my body is suddenly squeezed.

As I am in the midst of thoughts and realizations, he curls his fingers into my flesh and moans even louder than I. It distracts me completely from everything I was thinking and I don't even remember the subject because when I look down at him he's this flustered mess of sex that is just screaming at me to let him know what it's like to feel the pleasures of two bodies connecting over and over.

He's embarrassed of his actions but his hands are still at a PG level, resting low on my back. It looks like he is out of thought and mind and breath and why shouldn't he be, for his body needs to concentrate on engorging that succulent mass between his legs. I want to kiss him forever, but we need to move on - especially when he is showing me blatant signals to take the lead.

"Do you want my mouth?" I speak onto his lips and he's so fucking innocent that he nods his head and actually starts to kiss me. I nibble on his bottom lip for only a split second and then detach our mouths with a soft laugh. I kiss him on his jaw and then on his neck and I start to move down his amazing body ever so slowly. By the time I get to his chest I think he finally realizes what I meant.

"Wait, I don't...I'm not sure you should d-do that, I mean..." his cheeks darken if you could believe it and he looks frantic, adorable in his lack of composure. On his elbows now, he moves his torso and I take note of his abdomen tensing. I don't just take note of it I write a fucking book on how those muscles curve and flex and move up and down with every short breath of his. The thin sheen of sweat, the smooth protrusions of sculpted skin, I ogle every inch of it.

Speaking of inches, I have to stop these interruptions, these sick moments of infatuation that I can't even control. To speed this wretched dance along I hover my lips around his naval and then look up at him, my mouth speaking the promise of sex onto his skin.

"Show me more." My body lowers slowly and he obeys, widening his legs so submissively that it makes my dick twitch.

Turning his head to the side, still on his elbows, he shuts his eyes that peek through strew locks and his hands begin grip the carpet - desperately trying to hold on to the last shreds of innocence he will ever possess. With his knees completely spread his firm thighs flank my chest and I lick my lips in preparation.

I still don't look down, instead I stare right at him, completely enamored by his state. When he feels nothing, when I stall enough for him to notice, his head finally turns and he meets my gaze. We speak with our eyes because our mouths are too preoccupied with having our speech ripped right from us, our breaths exasperated, our tongues too enraptured in anticipation of what's to come. I swallow and then blush - hard - because he parts his lips and moans as he simultaneously rolls his hips, nudging his wet tip onto my clothed chest and practically begging me to take him whole.

"Do you want me?" I whisper to him and lift my body, preventing him from the satisfaction of friction.

He whines softly in frustration and I can tell how desperate he's become. He slams his back down onto the floor and breathes out a small "please..." as his left arm eloquently drapes over his eyes.

Please, he asks, he begs.

I inwardly squeal like a little fucking girl.

When I look down, when my neck bends and when my face aligns with his extremely swollen flesh - I release the shakiest breath I've ever exhaled.

"You're enormous." I whisper not to him but to his dick, although he answers me because he doesn't realize I'm trying to have a private conversation.

"Don't say that." He struggles to speak.

That flushed tip wavers in front of my mouth and not to be perverse, but I feel like rubbing my face all over that prized piece. It's so shapely and wet, its thickness intimidates me but its perfection motivates me to do what I've been dying to since the day I met him.

I place a small kiss where his head meets his shaft and then drag my tongue across the fold of curved skin, tasting him for the first time. I curl my lips around the fattened length and then stop when I hear him moan.

"Nnn, god." He calls out to a higher being and presses his lips together because he's twenty-seven and has never felt this kind of pleasure in his lifetime.

He's hot, he's...I don't even know, I'm speechless. I retract my tongue and look at my saliva on the reddened flesh as it drips slowly down the large expanse that is his cock. It turns me on so fucking much that I just lose myself and go for it.

  
_"Mph,_  ahh...f-fah..." he lets his sultry moans escape through those virgin lips when I take hold of the widened base and force it into my own mouth.

I stuff that fucking thing so far back into my throat that I choke. I choke and I fucking love it. I cough and moan and whine all at the same time and none of it ever escapes my mouth because it's too busy being fucked by the plumpest dick I've ever seen.

In between his moans, now evolving into grunts, I flatten my tongue and drag it up and down his shaft, base to tip, middle to tip, just around the base, all over the head. I slobber over that shit and lap it up like I fucking need it to breathe.

"Rgh, Ciel...agh, god!" He slams both of his palms flat on the ground and digs his fingers into the rug, lifting his hips when I suckle on his tip and circle my tongue over the nectar that seeps out him.

His knuckles are bone-white as they claw into the carpet and I squeeze my lips tighter over him and slowly start to bob up and down. My tongue rolls back and forth as I let him slip in and out of me, and I can say with utmost confidence that I fucking love sucking dick. I adore it, I want to do this for a fucking living I want to become his slave and eat him for every meal of the fucking day please god fucking please give me this privilege.

"C-Ciel, I'm..."

I loosely lap at the underside of his dick and I can literally feel it getting harder, angrier, stiffer than I ever thought it could get. It's almost surreal. I even think of removing my mouth because of it, but at that very second my lips unwillingly release his work of art when he grunts so loud that he jerks back.

I watch him as he favors grabbing his own head of hair now, and it seems like he's being tortured. His body is tense, his muscles are flexed and his face is so red that I suck on my bottom lip because it just looks that fucking sexy.

My eyes fixate on his dick and I press both of my palms on his thighs, steadying his motions as I get pulled in towards the gravity of his sex yet again. My head jerks as I attack it, my soft lips grabbing the engorged middle as I lather it with my own saliva.

"Nn, ah _..rrgh,_  sh-sh-AGH, don't!"

He cries out in pleasure, murmuring nonsense and breathing so deep that he grunts every time he exhales. I watch his skin become dusted with goose bumps and when I feel his thighs begin to shake - I know he's about to do it. He's about to feed me.

And fuck how I hunger for him, no one on Earth could ever understand how I feel. This literal icing on the cake makes me salivate, it makes me rock deeper into him. I stuff his rigid tip all the way down my throat and then swallow repeatedly, clenching my muscles around him and stimulating his dick like never before.

He suddenly grips onto my shoulders and starts groaning uncontrollably. I keep hearing broken whining versions of 'oh god' coupled with my name over and over. His heavy dick barely fits into my mouth and it's so fucking hot and I'm so fucking horny that I start jacking myself off.

My right arm begins pumping as my left hand slaps onto the palm he has resting on my shoulder. I force him to detach himself and I forcibly slam his hand onto the back of my head.

"Ngh,..Ciel." He breathes my name out for the millionth time but he refuses to take to my hair, he refuses to latch on so I have to show him how. I guide him like the beautiful virgin that he is and as our fingers lace I coerce his digits to pull my hair.

And fuck how he does.

He's a fast fucking learner because he yanks my strands of sweaty hair and pulls my head right off of his cock, only to slam it back down a split second later. My lips smack against his flesh when I take it in and out, when I swallow and release, when I slurp up and slather our mixture of fluids together. It beats into my fucking mouth with vigor and precision and when his hips start to buck into the motions of my lips I start to go wild on him.

He moans so loud that I can barely hear myself think. His deep voice rattles my eardrums and I know he's close because I can taste it, I can feel it, I can even fucking smell it. Come on give it to me drag your dick across my tongue and drain yourself inside of me like I know you want to. Fuck me, fuck my tight mouth you fucking virgin fuck it like a man, harder,  _harder._

  
_"Shit_ , Ciel, rgh!" He huffs in and out, his back grinding into the carpet, his hand a fucking puppet master to my head. I feel it, I see his abdomen tense along with his entire body I feel the base of his dick convulse and right when I position my tongue just right to take in his hot fucking load he does the unthinkable.

"Ahh,  _god_  - come here" pulling me by my hair he rips me right off of him and forces me onto his mouth, my lips completely soaked with the scent of his dick, the sticky mess of saliva, the hottest fucking concoction you could imagine. Our tongues wrestle like we're both fighting for the fucking gold and our jaws loosen and jerk back up in such a violent manner that it shakes my entire body.

The sound of our lips smacking and suckling and biting grow more intense as the seconds pass. His free hand that isn't gripping onto the back of my head slides down to my waist and I tense in surprise, because the way he holds me is different than before. He's eager, he's determined - he wants it.

He grunts into my mouth and breathes hard over my cheek, completely devouring me when he releases his forceful grip on my head. Not that it matters, because we're still going at it, stealing one another's breath and curling our tongues into each other until they passionately entwine. I feel like he's losing it, I feel like I'm winning.

When I glance at his face I moan because his innocence seems completely lost. I need to breathe but I can't, I need to push his tongue away but I won't. He steals my concentration yet again when I feel him palm his own dick and I watch his biceps flex when he starts to fuck himself. Up and down the pumping of his arm puts me in a fucking trance, and coupled with the way he's rolling his tongue it's probably the sexiest fucking thing I've ever been witness to.

Until he suddenly tackles me down to the ground and forces me to roll over.

That, I think - surely takes the cake.

..


	14. Chapter 14

_"...feel me from the inside."_

* * *

I've done this a million times, yet I've never done this at all. The feeling is so familiar, but I cannot even begin to remember any single moment similar to this. To be held by a man, I know it like the back of my hand, yet I feel so new to this sensation that courses throughout my entire body that I am stricken with confusion and my thoughts run wild with fear.

My fingers digging into the carpet, my ear listening to only the floor, my cheek pressing hard over the fibers of the rug, I've done this before. My breath is as hot and desperate as my urge to fuck could ever become. To try and understand what a sex addict thinks or feels, it's inexplicable to a point. It sounds so petty when I say these things aloud, but the emotions and desires that haunt me are all too real, and they are about to show themselves unwillingly without my consent, without my permission.

They are about to ruin my life.

I've gone over a month without sex with another, but that should garner no merits, for the situation is complex. I fell for this man, it's true, and without thought I promised him this abstinence in exchange for even the pleasure of touching him or of being in his presence. And I did, I did not lie, I kept to my word, but that does not mean that I have any self-control whatsoever. In fact, I'm an animal. Control is the one thing I lack. Control is the sole reason why my life has been plagued with addiction. Control is something I've never had to obtain until I met this man, and inevitably, control will be the death of me.

To tell you the truth, the reason I didn't engage in any sexual acts with others wasn't because I changed, or because I got better, or because I was miraculously cured from this sickness, no. The reason I didn't sleep with anyone is because I didn't give myself the chance to sleep with anyone. I distanced myself. I purposely made myself unavailable, I starved my body and my mind and I never let the situation present itself to me. Sure I got a few desperate phone calls, a couple of glances, the slight temptation of an attractive customer, all of those things actually happened - but it's not like I was ever pushed down to the floor or a bed or a wall or any of the sort. I was never touched, I was never trapped in the heat of the moment. No, because to be completely honest, if I was - I would lose that small amount of control that I barely even possess. I would never be able to resist the temptation of sex if it were so carelessly dangled in front of me in such a way. I would never say no. I would never say no because I have a  _problem._  


_I have a problem. And up until now, I've not noticed the severity of it._

I feel the worst when I feel the most elated. It's revolting, this torture. It's a lifetime of agony for a few seconds of bliss, it's an exchange of a piece of yourself for only a moments pleasure - it's selling your soul to the devil himself for these selfish niceties which are disguised in the sinful moans of the peak of hot, dirty sex. When I get that high I crash just as fast, and it's something I've never thought of until this moment. Until this very, very inconvenient moment.

When I got tackled to the floor, I think, is when I switched. When I became that disgusting person. When I got that sickening blood lust, when I turned into that fucking animal. When I hurt him, when I hurt myself. All because of sex. Because of something so shallow that I abstained from for far too long without release, because I am weak and hollow - and I need help.

  
_"Ah, yeahh..."_  I breathe out hotly and clench my teeth when I feel his warm hand push my shirt up to my shoulder blades. With my pants and briefs already at my ankles, I begin to growl in anticipation. I don't just growl, I fucking  _wail._  


"Come on, fuck me. Fuck me with that fucking dick of yours - fuck me, make me scream,  _nngh!"_  


You know that feeling you get right before you fuck when there's just nothing happening? When it's just a pause, just a moments time, a half of a breath, a teasing break that makes the earth stop fucking spinning and then suddenly - it's just... _pressure._ It's this invasion of yourself and you feel that penetration and you just hold your breath as you're being freshly stretched and think fuck fuck  _fuck_. And when it's all in you breathe out and your entire body becomes malleable and loose and it's instantly filled with this drug of pleasure and you relax, you relax every single muscle you possess and it's absolute fucking bliss. It's as close to heaven as I could ever picture, it's so potent that it makes my eyes roll into the back of my head every fucking time. I want to feel this now, I want to feel  _him_  now.

"Stick it in, Sebastian, feel me from the inside." I babble to him.

I'm disgusting, a complete mess. If I held a mirror to my face at this very moment I wouldn't even be able to recognize myself. I'm so deprived, so hungry for it, I want it, I NEED it. But most importantly, if I don't have it - I'll fucking lose it. And I do. I lose all of it, in a split second, in the blink of an eye - my sanity becomes engulfed with lust and as it happens I have absolutely no knowledge of it.

"C-ciel, I, nnn..." He's moaning as he nervously feels the entire expanse of my back and then leans over to place a kiss in between my shoulder blades. He doesn't know that I'm practically foaming at the mouth with the sickness of my addiction just yet, but he will when I yell once again, this time adding a shameful insult because I can't control my disgusting fucking mouth.

"Hurry up you  _virgin,_  don't you know how to fuck?" I spread my knees and snake my left hand between my supple thighs, the tips of my fingers now rubbing my greedy, clenched hole "this - you fuck this, got it?"

The things that are spewing from my mouth are so...beneath me. They are so backwards and parallel and fucking perpendicular to what I actually want to say. I want to be gentle with him like I have been up until now, but he is seeing the real side of me and I hate it. I hate it so fucking much.

"Mmm" I hear him moan and breathe when I start fucking myself like some wild feral human. I stick two fingers in and out of me and spread the digits apart so he can see it for himself.

I treat him like he's stupid and I mock his high IQ. I mock it and spit on it and kick it to the side of the curb like a piece of fucking garbage because that's exactly what I am so I reflect that onto the person I actually care about.

"Why aren't you fucking me yet, huh? Do you not fucking get it? Put your dick in me - in here...HERE." Three fingers now pump in and out of me and the moaning and the panting that were coming from him suddenly stop "give it to me you fuck!"

When I feel his fingers gently wrap around my wrist and pull my own hand away from my hole, I purr like a sick fucking bitch because I just know I'm about to get exactly what I want.

I feel my eyes glass over and I lick the side of my mouth like some amateur porn star as I dig my nails into the carpet. I stick my ass out and make the most vulgar noises, some kind of babbled version of "fuck me" and "hard", repeating those two over and over like some sick twisted chant.

I'm another person right before I fuck. I'm lower than a human being, I'm nothing. When I feel his hands massage my lower back I hear him shuffle into position and I'm there like a dog, like a gross fucking addict fiending for his next fix.

"Are you okay?" His voice is soft and dripping with so much concern that it makes me snap right at him.

I turn my head and I wouldn't be surprised if I looked like some possessed psychopath in his beautifully innocent eyes.

"NO I won't be okay until you fucking fuck me!" I crash my ass into his body and grunt viciously "hurry hurry, hard, do it as hard as you can come on come on fuck all of it fuck me all the way, all the way as deep as you can go, hurry".

"W-why are you acting like this?" He grabs his fallen shirt and places it shamefully over the one thing that I yearn for the most. With a gentle hand he pushes my intrusive body away and clears his throat "you're different, it's making me uncomfortable".

My torso twists and I tackle his large body onto the floor like a rabid beast for the second time. But this time, I AM different. I am restless and rough and when I climb on top of him my mouth begins to water at the sight.

It looks like he's about to cry, his cheeks and his nose as red as his plump, delicious lips. It makes me laugh because I secretly love it but when he stares right into me with those piercing eyes I nervously look away.

"Ciel, get off of me. What are you  _doing?_  I don't want this anymore, look at you!"

"Look at ME?" I smile and bend down to lewdly lick at his neck, my tongue flipping over his skin. "Look at you, denying me sex. No one denies me sex."

The salty taste of his skin only fuels my hunger and I place both of my palms flush against his firm chest, straightening my back.

"If you're not going to fuck me, then I'll just fuck myself..."

I start to back up and I grind my ass onto his crotch, circling my hips back and forth until he slaps his hands onto my waist and I kid you not he lifts me in the air and pushes me clear off of him.

"Stop it, stop!" He grunts.

I don't care. A harsh smack and a low thud erupt from between us as I attack him again, growling as my clothes that pool at my ankles cause me to stumble all over the ground. My palms slap onto his shoulders and when I latch onto his back he fights me.

He fights me. ME.

His long arms reach behind himself and he rips my body from his own yet again, causing me to tumble a few feet away from him. We're both breathing hard and not only am I in dire need of a fuck but I'm being overcome with this lunacy, this condensed madness that I can't even control.

"Man...the fuck up...and fuck me already you...v-virgin." I can barely breathe.

"No, Ciel. You need to calm down...please!" He scrambles to his clothes and dresses himself with lightning speed before crawling up to me without any hesitation.

"What is it...you're okay, okay? Ciel?"

I'm on my hands and knees, naked, vulnerable, and it all just hits me full force. No warning, no signals, no symptoms, no time no nothing it just fucking pierces right into me and fucks up my whole entire existence. The realization of what I'm doing, of who I am, of all the things I think of but never act upon. Guilt. Fear. Rationalization. Morality. Normal human emotions.

Pain.

Empathy.

I look at him when he rests his large hand on my shoulder and our eyes finally meet. He's so concerned, he's not even scared he's just overcome with worry I can feel it. My eyes begin to water and I clench my jaw because I don't know what to do or say.

"This was all my fault." He rubs my back and sits down beside me, crossing his long legs and holding his ankles like a child "I shouldn't have gotten carried away, you needed help not...this."

"I needed...you to...sleep. With. Me." I gurgle out the words through my teeth and swallow "I went over a MONTH without it - couldn't you give me at least that?!"

He shakes his head and looks down, ripping our gaze from one another.

"I care about you too much to take advantage of you like that." His mussed locks of hair get pushed behind his ear and he glances at me between his words "I care about myself, too - I don't want to be used."

I remove my hands from the floor and lean against the wall, his comforting hand falling away from my body as anger overcomes me, making matters worse.

"I wasn't using you! How dare you say something so...fucking careless!"

"You only want to sleep with me, you don't want to be with me."

Be with him? Be...with...what? I've never even thought of that. Be with him in what way, as a casual sex partner? A lover? A...boyfriend? A relationship? I don't even know what that is! I wouldn't even know how to act if I were in a relationship with someone! What is that, who does that? Who would want that with me anyway, is he crazy?

I let out a condescending laugh and cross my arms "what and you want some kind of relationship with me?"

His perfect brows twist and I can't believe it but he actually looks annoyed. It's beautiful.

"No, Ciel, I just go and do this with anyone who asks, I give myself away for the first time to someone who isn't important to me."

"Pfft" I scoff at his sarcasm, I don't know why. I don't want to be an asshole to him but I feel as if all of my defenses have crumbled and all I can do to protect myself is create this wall, this distance between us so he doesn't hurt me even more. He rejected me. The one single sole human being that I didn't want to be thrown away by just tossed me to the side in the name of what...caring too much? It just makes no sense to me. I can't process it - I don't get it, I don't understand.

"If you love me so much then why won't you sleep with me?" I nudge my head up to him and glare "what is love without sex, anyway?"

He's mad now, for the first time, I can just feel it. The way his perfect lips twitch before he speaks, how his jaw clenches slightly, how his eyes seem to be set aflame. It's too much for me but I don't look away because I'm a fucking masochist and I hate to say it but I love it.

"What a horrible, ignorant thing to say! You don't need sex to be in love, you don't need sex to BE loved, either, Ciel."

Right in my cold, lifeless heart. I admit it, it hurt when he said that. His implications, his not so subtle conclusion pertaining to what ails me. Perhaps he's right, maybe I do all of this for that precise reason. Maybe I crave the presence of another yet I fear rejection so much that I just keep using different people over and over before they even get the chance to push me aside.

Maybe he is a good therapist.

"Is that right, doctor? And how would YOU know, have you ever even been in love before?"

"I have, unlike you!"

I stare at him almost in disbelief because I can see it in his eyes that he's telling the truth. So he's been in love yet remained a virgin. I wonder what happened, how long ago this was, if it was unrequited, if he suffered, if he was hurt, if it was a woman, if it was a man...

I brush my concerns away and clear my throat because I've had enough of this pitiful game that I am so desperately losing.

"Look, maybe I need sex to feel loved, okay." I get up from my place and slide my clothes up to my waist, fastening my pants as I speak. "And if you can't handle that, then I'll go find it somewhere else".

My voice almost cracks, I just barely hold on to my arrogance enough to finish that sentence. I don't want to see anyone else. I don't want to feel anyone else. I want him more than anything, more than life, but the problem is that he doesn't want me. And what do I have to offer him if it's not my body?

That's all I have to make him feel good. My personality is stale, downright acrid. My mind is even worse. I'm arrogant, egotistical, stubborn, self-absorbed I have a twisted, ugly sense of humor. What could I do to keep him satisfied? Nothing. To make him stay? Absolutely nothing.

To be honest he deserves better than me. To be really honest, I never stood a chance. The one person I've ever grown so obsessed with - was it all over lust? If it was lust, those two weeks when I fell ill, was it not because I was sick with love? With yearning? Whatever I felt it was new, and it was painful and beautiful and exciting and treacherous all at the same time. What do you call that, then? Is that what the definition of love is? Constant fucking pain when you're not with a specific person? Not eating or sleeping because it interferes with thinking of them, is that it? No? Then what, what is it what do I have what am I feeling why did I become like this?! I'm like this yet he blames me for wanting to become even closer! And then I ruin it all, I ruin everything I even had my chance he was going to do it I know he was but I had to devolve into this fucking primitive animal right before it happened! I fucking cursed myself and I reap what I sow and it's shit. It's all bullshit.

"No, wait...don't go."

He gets up just as I do and walks to the door, creating a barricade with his tall form. "You can't leave, you can't go to someone else."

"And why not?" my voice is soft, stricken with sadness yet comes off as uncaring because I don't want him to know what he's doing to me.

"Because you have me."

"But you don't want me..." I walk up to him and stare at him, our bodies almost touching, "right?"

God I can smell him, I can almost taste him. His face is still red, his lips are now frowning, and his eyes are just screaming at me to stay - but I can't. There's no point.

"I do want you, you can't just leave..."

"You deserve someone better than me, someone who you don't mind touching, maybe someone-"

He wraps his arms around my waist and presses our thin torsos into one another, cutting my speech off completely. His throat rests by my lips and I am overwhelmed with this horrible emotion of sadness. I almost can't take it. He squeezes me tightly and then speaks softly into my ear.

"Be patient with me and I'll do the same for you. We can work this out, I'll help you. I want you, don't you see that? I want what's best for you, I want to do this right."

"You want me? You're absolutely right - I don't see it."

He pulls away and looks at me. "I showed you all of myself, don't you believe me?"

I shrug my shoulders like some insolent child and slide my eyes to the side. "You won't give me all of you, so why should I believe you?"

"I can't do that just yet, Ciel...you have to wait."

**"WHY?"**

"Because of what happened right now! You turn into someone I don't even know, you turn into some sex fiend and it's too much! It makes me so uneasy, it frightens me, it's not healthy for you!"

I snap and shove him to the side, pushing him hard against the wall. "Good, fine, enjoy yourself then, Sebastian - I'm leaving".

"W-where are you going?!"

"To fuck someone who's willing. Don't come after me or you'll regret it."

"Please don't, please..."

I hear the desperation in his voice and I'm thankful that I can't see his saddened face because I know I'd just never be able to leave.

When I open the door I inhale, and when I close it behind me I completely break down.

I'm outside now, the orange sun all around me, heat enveloping my entire body as I crash my face into the palms of my hands. I pull on my own hair and scream into my wrists, clenching my teeth in frustration. I cry, I panic. I lose myself.

Suddenly I hear an extremely loud thud as if someone punched a wall, and it is accompanied by a very deep, angry  ** _"FUCK!"_** _._  It shuts me up completely and I'm breathing hard out of my nose when I realize it came from him.

There's no way such a vulgar word could ever slip past such innocent lips, but there is no doubt that it was his voice. It was his voice and it was his hand and it was his temper all coming out at once, away from my presence, from my ability to witness such a thing. I really am bad for him, look what I've turned him into. He's too sweet and I'm too vile, and whatever it is we had was just a formula gone awry, a horrible experiment - a complete mistake.

I wipe the large, messy tears that have stained my face with my forearm and then stand up straight to compose myself. I can't believe I'm...crying. I'm a mess, I don't even remember the last time this wretched feeling ever came over me. My head hurts, my body aches, my metaphorical heart feels like it's been clawed right out of me, and my actual heart feels just as bad. I feel sick, I feel sickened with myself.

Whenever I would feel like this before I would go out and look for someone to sleep with to distract my thoughts. But I don't want to sleep with anyone else but him, so now what do I do? Do I try to find someone, do I find just anyone, do I look for someone who talks like him and acts like him and smells like him? Where do I go from here, where am I? What the FUCK is happening to me? Why does he DO this to me?!

I stumble down some stairs and then jog away from the small complex, refusing to turn around to see what it looks like. I need to do something, I need to go somewhere, I need to see someone. I need to be numb - I have to be numb.

As I pace down the unfamiliar street I nervously lick my lips and shudder when I feel a vibration in my pocket. Is it him? Is he here? Is he behind me? Oh, no. Wait. It's just my phone.

I stop right where I stand and pull the device out to squint at the screen. The sun is shining in my reddened eyes as it sets over the horizon, and I breathe out tiredly when I read those three flashing words.

Alois Trancy calling…

I momentarily wonder if my archenemy could be an angel in disguise.

..

* * *


	15. Chapter 15

  
_"This horse is a slut._ _I'm a slut."_   


* * *

"Trancy..." the name barely even slips from my two trembling lips before his rude demeanor invades the sanctity of my eardrums.

" _Well, well, well - Ciel! This is one if not the only time you've ever graced me with the luxury of hearing your pretty little voice_!"

I stop and stare into the setting sun, saying nothing as my emotions can't wrap their way around the musings of such a moronic individual. My fingers clench around the body of the cell and I start to walk, scared that I will give in to the temptation of returning to the apartment that houses the man who put me in this sordid state.

" _Oh Ciel, Ciel...are you there little cherub_?"

"Please," I growl lowly through clenched teeth, "do not ever call me that again".

" _So feisty, that's good. You'll need that tonight when you come to my place_."

Shit. I forgot all about the meeting with my father, it's true, but what astounds me even more is the way in which this annoying excuse for a man chooses to word his sentence.

"Wait..." my voice is confused, distraught, and slightly suspicious, "I thought you two were supposed to go to my father's estate?"

There is a very evil, almost eerily maniacal cackle that pulsates throughout the phone and my top lip immediately curls at the frightening sound.

" _Mmm...ah-ha! We were supposed to, but I made the suggestion to move the meeting to our place in the interest of...pleasure_ ~"

The way he almost sings his words sends a shiver of disgust right down my spine. I've known this person, if you could label him as such, for years. I know when he's up to something and I sure as hell know when it's something seedy.

"And what kind of pleasure is that?" I ask.

" _Well as you know I have the whole East wing of our mansion to myself, and tonight I'm throwing a little...private party, if you will. And guess what, my little sex-dwarf...you're on the VIP list_!"

I try not to drop the phone and kick it into the gutter and never see or touch or carry it with me ever again. Every word that slithers past that malevolent mouth causes my blood to boil. Sometimes I wonder just why I despise this man so much, as he never really wronged me in any such way, but this mere minute I've been within earshot of his voice confirms all of my hatred for him. His character is foul. His speech is unrefined and laced with lies. He has no career, the only business he knows how to deal in is drugs.

Drugs, narcotics...mind-altering substances.

Being numb, it's what I wish for. I crave to feel nothing, to be nothing. To stop the constant playing and re-playing of what just took place in the house of the only man who has ever rejected me. It hurts.

"Do you have shit at your place?" I say with no emotion. I can hear him hum excitedly and then chuckle into the receiver, making me feel dirtier than I already am.

" _Ha! Cute. I don't smoke shit, Ciel. That's disgusting, I'm way too classy for that. I think you might have your drug lingo mixed up, baby_."

"You know what I mean you fucking junkie. What do you have then?"

" _Baww, don't call me that! I have anything you desire, kitten. Coke, ecstasy, ketamine, acid...men_."

I swallow at his last word because he knows it's my drug of choice. It was something I didn't expect him to say, yet when he said it my heart thumped hard against my chest. An entire month has gone by without my body being invaded by someone else's sex. A month without that pleasure of being mounted and fucked and taken raw how I like it. I've been cast aside and denied that pleasure, yet it's not what I currently crave. I don't just want anyone anymore.

The thought does not even excite me, it merely makes me sadder. And it's not because I am doubtful or insecure or loathsome, which I AM, but that is not why it ceases to make me yearn for it. What stops me from thinking of garnering any pleasure from others is that man, that German, that fucking thief.

He stole everything from me. He stole my life, my future, my way of thinking. He fucking conned me into believing him, he fucking trapped me and now I'm this emotional pile of shit that's broken and angry and spiteful.

" _Ciel_?"

Fuck I hate Alois.

"Hm? Yes?"

He whistles into the phone because he thinks I'm crazy and then speaks to me in this disgustingly soft tone as if he's actually capable of feeling normal human emotions.

" _I'll have a surprise here for you if that is what you please. What would I be if not an amazing host to such an important guest_?"

I slide the palm of my hand over my entire face and then sigh in defeat because there is nothing left of me.

"I have to go to my father's place now. I'll see you tonight."

Before I even give him the chance to speak I end the call. If there is one thing Alois Trancy makes me feel it's dirty. I can't even begin to fathom what the night will bring.

..

I stuff the phone into my back pocket and start walking, taking in my unfamiliar surroundings. After about a block of sulk-pacing, I come upon what seems to be a park nestled in a small corner of an intersection. I take note of the two streets and then walk into the empty area.

The grass is so perfect and the evening breeze is still warm, but it feels good against my skin. I know I look like shit, I certainly feel like shit, and when I walk up to an empty playground I groan. As a child I never experienced such public squalor, I wasn't allowed to. Now that I think about it, this is my first time in a place like this.

My shoes sink slightly into the beige sand and I walk up to some kind of child's play-mechanism that is shaped like a horse. It's propped up by a large rusted metal spring and I eye it for a minute and then straddle the small thing. My foot swings over the steed and I plop my ass onto the chipped saddle. It moves forward and then back, and I just slump my entire torso over the front of it.

My thin arms dangle lifelessly at my sides as my chin rests between the ears of the overly-used horse. You know I think this horse and I have a lot in common. We're old, stuck in the same place all our life, the same class, the same position. We let anyone on for a ride, we don't care. We're pathetic, damaged, used. This horse is a slut. I'm a slut.

I'm in desperate need of repair and I despise the fact that it's taken me this long to realize it.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and look at my screen. I have a message from my father that demands my attendance in two hours and I close my eyes and almost cry again because I don't want to do this right now. I don't want to see my dad and I don't want to see Alois, my eyes only wish to reside in the presence of the man who wants nothing to do with me and that thought alone kills me.

All of a sudden I feel a tiny vibration and my eyes peel open to look at my cell once again. It's a message from an unfamiliar number.

[Ciel, I'm so sorry. Please meet me at my office tomorrow at 10am. I beg you, I have to see you. - Sebastian]

No one could possibly understand the way my heart practically rips right out of my chest when I read these words. My legs move slightly and I rock on the small horse as I let this minuscule wave of happiness wash right over me. He wants to see me, but can I see him? What would I do? How do I act? Why would he still want to talk to me when I just told him that fucking lie that I was going to go out to get fuc-

Shit. Another message interrupts me as if he's reading my every thought.

[I have a proposition for you. Don't let anyone touch you. See you tomorrow.]

I scoff quietly at his seemingly dominant tone, albeit a bit happily, and quickly reply to him.

_\- And if I do let someone touch me?_

I swear not even a second passes and when I see the new message I bite the side of my bottom lip because of all the different ways I could interpret it.

[I'll find out.]

My heart suddenly feels alive and I realize that I'm now riding the shit out of this horse even though I'm slumped over it like some giant. The large metal coil creaks and I have this epiphany, this horse-inspired fucking epiphany that just hits me like a ton of bricks.

He wants me. I believe that he genuinely wants me. It's so hard to wrap my mind around that idea because people have wanted me before, but only for a lay. This man has done so much...he's gone out of his way to find me, to care for me, to keep me safe. No matter how many times he told me he wanted me it never clicked until right this second.

The squeak of the horse becomes softer and softer until I'm left completely still. I run every scenario through my head and I'm left feeling embarrassed over how psychotic I acted. I was such an animal, such an unrelenting starved sex-junkie and I never ever want to see that side of me again.

I can't even believe my own self when I say this but I want to get help, I want to change. I want him to change me. I don't want to live like this anymore or to act or feel or think in this way ever again. It fucking eats at me and I tear the flesh off of my own back whenever I stoop this low and I'm done with it, with all of it.

Meeting him has given me this opportunity to be sane again and even after making a complete fool of myself he immediately gives me another chance. If I don't take this chance I'd regret it my entire life. I'm going to be there tomorrow, I'm going to see him, and I'll actually let him help me this time. I'll let him do whatever he wants with me.

The sun finally rests behind the horizon and I pat the slut of a horse on the head, our camaraderie kept secret to the confines of this park.

I ask myself for my own hand, to give myself away, to let my body be that of someone else's, to share myself and not be selfish. I need to get over this wretched phase of my life and move on.

Tonight I will conduct business, and tomorrow I will start anew.

* * *

After my driver picked me up from the middle of my repressed childhood realizations, I reached the sanctity of my estate and took a very well-needed shower. I washed his scent off of me regretfully, but the mark he gave me on my neck the night before was a well-needed reminder that I still belonged to him.

Right now I am sitting in the car with my father and I can't help but tug on the collar of my black dress shirt in fear that he will notice. He glances at my behavior and I immediately place my hands on my lap.

"Ciel, I have important matters to discuss with Mr. Trancy so just keep that son of his appeased while we work."

"Appeased how, father? That man lives in excess, he couldn't be appeased with all the money in the world." My head leans back on the black leather seats of my family's towncar, and I sigh because my mind is elsewhere.

"You're one to talk."

"I believe I actually work for a living, and I take pride in what I do, whereas he sits on his ass all day long and lets substances fly up his nose." I receive a swift smack to the back of my head and almost laugh at the way he still punishes me as if I were a child. "That hurt."

"Try not to speak ill of our client."

I give him a confused stare and raise a brow, "as if we'd ever have such swine for a client".

The car comes to a stop as large double gates outwardly open to the Trancy manor. My father straightens his tie before shooting a glance at me and then smiles ever so slightly. He never smiles.

"Unless of course, father, you've managed to usurp that scoundrel's position."

"Position? Please, us Phantomhives are more worthy than that, dear son. Try buying them out, cheaply, just as they do business."

I laugh and then smile because I know my father is a genius. He's taught me well over the course of my life and I've never held so much respect for someone than I do for him. When he's not handling business he's by my mother's side and I can tell that they still live for one another. He's a different person around her. I've inherited so much from him yet I've never realized it before. He separates business and pleasure and that's something I need to follow.

Sometimes I feel ashamed, no, a lot of times I feel ashamed about the acts my father has caught me in. He's seen me at my lowest yet he's always covered for me, always pushed me to seek help, to outgrow this treacherous phase that I've been stuck in for the past ten years. He wants what's best for his only son and although he never expresses it, I know he's still proud of my achievements.

"Will you have mercy on them, father?" I ask slyly, smiling as I speak.

The car pulls up to the lavish entrance and he squeezes my knee gently as he stares right at me. "Our family does not take mercy on such ill-conceived businesses - but that does not mean that you're to act crass around these men."

I watch as the driver circles around the towncar and opens the door for my father. I shuffle beside him to follow him out and he lifts a single finger, halting my movements as both of his feet touch the gravel below.

"You won't be accompanying me tonight. You will be driven to the East wing and you will remain there as Alois' guest."

My face twists into a confused, angry mess of an expression and right as I open my mouth to argue he speaks to me again, this time in a firmer, more business-like voice.

"Do as he pleases, do not speak of our work if you can help it, and keep him happy. He was raised as a delinquent and controls his own father so if anything goes wrong it might hinder our negotiations. Understood?"

"No! I can't be alone with that man for three seconds yet alone three hours!" I whisper-yell and latch onto the sleeve of his suit like a child throwing a tantrum, "you're asking too much!"

"Don't argue. I know this is difficult but I can't do this without your distractions, Ciel. I'll try to be as quick as possible and once everything is set I'll get in touch with you by phone."

He tugs his sleeve away from my grasp and then pats the side of my face once before he turns around, assuring me that I'll be okay. I slump down into the seats and audibly whine because I know I won't.

* * *

"Phantomhive, you've arrived!" Alois opens the door to his side of the mansion and greets me in only a bright-red robe of silk. I immediately scowl at his state of undress and push him as I make my way inside.

It smells smoky, the air is thick with several scents and I peer into the large living room before me. There are men, about five or six, maybe more hidden elsewhere, smoking unknown substances and drinking the swill that the Trancy family is known for manufacturing. A television is on, but no one seems to be watching it, as a few of the men have taken interest in one another.

I watch as two of them make out and I swallow dryly, my eyes moving up to Alois as he passes me.

"What is this?" My voice is low enough so the others don't hear, but completely laced with anger.

His glassy blue eyes look me up and down and he smiles.

"Black pants with a black dress shirt and a black tie. Oh, Ciel, why oh why are you always dressed for a funeral?"

"In case of emergencies." I spit out and my lip curls at the way he giggles. "Who are those men and why are they all over one another?"

He steps towards me and I take a step back because he breaks my five-foot rule. I want to get out of here but I know I can't. I just want it to be tomorrow, that's all I wish for. I want to see my therapist and beg for forgiveness and listen to every word he has to say and live my life with him in it and without the unwanted companionship of one Alois Trancy.

"They're my concubines." He turns his back and slithers his way into the living room, disrobing as he walks. I stand frozen in disgust and my stomach turns when I see his naked backside.

"Come, come, Ciel...let my men show you the hospitality only a Phantomhive deserves."

I look away from his crotch, inwardly vomiting when he turns around and the men begin to swarm him. They strip themselves of their clothes and I watch as they begin to touch and kiss and grope him all over like he's descended right from heaven.

The men are young, good-looking, built, but obviously lacking in the ability to make wise decisions. Upon further inspection they seem slightly out of it, and that is when my attention turns to the small pile of white powder that rests on the large glass coffee table. Like a pyramid of bleached sand it ominously sits in the middle of the room, a few dents already carved into it's shape.

I try to block out the moans and grunts I'm hearing and my legs are just screaming at me to run as fast as I can, yet I stay frozen in place.

"Ciel if you don't accompany me to these lavish accommodations I've provided I'll never forgive you for it, mmm..."

One of the men is now on his knees stuffing that vile lump of flesh in and out of his mouth and this sorry excuse for a man falls onto the couch and continues to call me over with the wave of his hand.

Reluctantly, and oh so regretfully, I walk over towards the pile of shifting bodies. I sit on an empty space on the couch about five feet away from the pack and I regret that as well, wondering how many layers of spunk I've just pressed against.

His pale arm pokes through the mess of tanned bodies and he points to the drugs on the table.

"Go on, have some." He chimes, tilting his head back and motioning for two of the men to start fucking on his command. They do it, too, without question, and my eyes turn towards them.

These two men seem like they don't even know what they're doing. Hands are everywhere, fingers are being sucked with no purpose, hell, I'm not even sure they've ever even had sex with another man before. Their grotesque protruding muscles move and flex and it's almost like witnessing a train wreck when one actually willingly submits and spreads his thick thighs.

Alois claps joyously at the show and is distracted by the two experiencing the excruciating pain of first-time, unlubed penetration. The scream that comes out of the guy who is pressed against the wall is so blood-curdling that I begin to feel unsafe.

"Loosen him up before you go in you moron." Alois points to a nearby bookshelf and lifts his chin in its direction, "there's lotion on that shelf you heathens, learn to fuck."

I feel hot and my heart is racing because this situation could easily get out of hand. My palm slides down to my left pocket and I grasp my cell phone from over the fabric, just to calm me. I need my father to hurry up, I need him to be done with these wretched dealings. Why we even need to buy out this lowly winery is beyond me, and right now I just might risk it in favor of an escape. What are the chances he'd go running to his father tonight when he has four man-servants catering to his every whim?

"Ciel, did you not hear me?"

My eyes move from the fumbling couple and lock onto those dead blue orbs. I blink once and then lift my chin, scoffing to regain my confidence.

"As if I would do any of your filthy drugs, Trancy. Do you really think that low of me?"

He smirks like he's mulling over world domination and then spreads his legs as his blowjob continues, completely unfazed by the act.

"Oh? But you sounded so...forlorn over the phone. I thought you wanted something to take your mind off of the worries that plague the richest boy in town, hm?"

"I dealt with my problems without the assistance of any substances, so I'll pass, thank you."

He laughs. No, he tilts his head to the side and cackles like a fucking witch and it makes me clench my teeth.

"All right, I see how it is. Let's play a game then, shall we?"

"I'm not interested in your men, either."

His hand smacks onto the head between his thighs and he pulls the guy's hair so hard that he screams. The sound is so disturbing to me that I just hope he gets his dick ripped right off.

"I said a  _game_ , Phantomhive, or can you not hear properly?"

I try to act casually, I really do. If I let him think he possesses any kind of actual control over me then I lose. I keep telling myself that it's just for tonight. Only a few seconds, minutes, hours, perhaps an eternity stuck in this hell? Whichever duration I must endure it. My reward will be knowing that I would never have to see this man ever again after tonight - and for that, I'd do anything.

"What's the game?" I ask tiredly.

"The game is called...snort a rail of coke off of this guy's dick." He points to a random lackey and grins.

I immediately release a disgruntled 'ugh' because even the thought is too much to bear.

"I think not, let's play something els-"

"THE. GAME. IS. CALLED..." he wags a finger back and forth with every reiterated word, "snort a rail of coke off of this guy's dick OR I go and tell my father to retract the offer for our winery".

So many things have happened today I can't even correctly contemplate the fluctuations of emotions since the moment I awoke. I started off elated, became insanely jealous of some meaningless woman, and then ruined everything with Sebastian in a fit of psychosis. At the park I had an epiphany, I made the adult decision to actually welcome assistance with my addiction. I realized I needed someone for the first time in my life. I realized that there was only one man in the world who I would ever let touch me again.

And now, currently, as I try to sit here and act unscathed, Alois Trancy comes in and completely douses my night and sets it on fire, careless of his actions. I stare at him as he's getting serviced and to be completely honest I'm not surprised he's using the cheap, classless tactic of bribing me into doing something so fucking detestable.

The two men against the wall are now fucking correctly, and as their grunts fill the room I wave my hand casually in the air and shrug my shoulders.

"Set it up, then."

He practically beams and lets out this disturbing squeal of excitement as he pushes the men off of his body. They move to the side and sit by his feet save one who stands up before his master.

"Let me get your table nice and hard for you, then..."

The sight of Alois sucking the man's cock is so fucking foul that it almost turns me straight. His tongue slobbers all over the mediocre dick and as I watch him I can only hope that I didn't look that disgusting when I was with Sebastian. To be that disoriented, to seem that desperate and hungry and meager. It's pathetic. It's scary, even, to think that I was just like this a mere month ago with men all around me. How did I even live with myself back then? It's such a disrespect, such a harmful, abusive thing to do to one's self.

The sudden smack of wet lips sliding off of the now erect cock makes my insides churn. It's not just the fact that I'll be snorting coke off of some stranger's dick, but rather some stranger's dick that's just been inside this vagrant's mouth. That's what really gets me.

"Okay now dry yourself off and walk over to my friend there." He slaps the guy's ass as he passes and when the male is within two feet of me I lift up my palm and signal him to stop.

His dick is about six inches, an average thickness, ungroomed and hairy all over. It makes me wince, the amount of hair before me. I feel like gurgling out a whine because I don't want to fucking do this.

"Line up a rail for him, will you?" Alois orders the ape and he immediately bends down and scoops up a mound of the powder with a nearby credit card. His erection swings as he faces me and I can't help but retract my head in distaste. A thick line is carefully shifted into place, from the hairy excursion of the hardened base all the way to the peeled back tip, and he tosses the card back down to the table when finished.

"Grab my straw, honey, and let me see you devour that thing." Alois gestures towards the table and I look at the surface. There is a purple cut-up straw resting on top of the pile and the thought that it touched the inside of the asshole's nose makes me retract the hand that was reaching for it. I notice a rolled-up bill by a filled cup of wine and try to calculate the amount of germs in the money versus the used straw. I'll go with the money.

"Ahh, a classy choice!" He sings and giggles and beams with joy as I take the bill and then face the dick before me.

All I notice is veins and pubic hair and saggy balls and fucking crotch-sweat and how this guy probably hasn't showered in days because I can smell that dirty-dick scent emanating off of his junk. I want to vomit for the third time today but instead I choose to just go for it.

Without ever once touching the soiled cock I lean over and quickly inhale the line through the rolled-up single. I snort further and further down the expanse until it is completely gone, the bill nudging the tip of the dick as I finish, leaving it bobbing in mid-air.

Shit.

Instantaneously I grab my nostril and press on it, the dollar dropped in the process. My head tilts back and I shut my eyes because a million things are going through my mind.

I can hear laughter, boisterous clapping, and fucking going on in the background of my mind. I swallow and I really wish I didn't because that harsh chemical drip stings the back of my throat like acid burning through skin.

"Ughh...god." I groan out and keep swallowing, trying to rid my throat of the most bitter taste I've ever experienced. The back of my head becomes heavy and then I feel it. A numbing sensation all over. My tongue, my esophagus, my forehead, my eyes, my brain. The sensation tingles and I open my eyes to try and grasp the reality I'm currently taking part in.

"How's it taste?!" Alois is being fed bumps of his own and I can hear the powder entering his nose. The harsh sniffs and groans that come from him make my head swim and I just can't do anything but swallow.

"Throat...n-numb." I point to my mouth and lean back into the couch, loosening my tie because I don't think I can breathe like this.

"Give him a sip of wine to cut the taste, love." He orders the guy who just had his dick in front of my face and in a flash, or what seems like a flash, a cup of red wine is placed into my hand.

I notice my thin fingers wrap around the stem of the glass and I lift it to my mouth and down almost all of it.

"Ngh,  _ugh..._ " I groan because it's the most disgusting wine I've ever sampled. Its flavors are all off, its aroma seemingly absent, and I cough because of the taste.

"Let's get this little party stated now, shall we boys?" He shuffles some men off of his dick and away from his body and crawls over to my side of the couch. My eyes merely watch him as my body seems too lazy to move and when he cups a hand around my ear I tilt my head away.

His dry lips part and he moves closer towards my lobe and whispers into it, giggling as he speaks.

"You're going to have fuuuun tonight," he snorts, "I guarantee it".

* * *

There's a soft ringing. It's barely audible but I can surely hear it. I can hear it yet I see nothing, and it is in that second that awake.

I first smell a foul odor of sweat, body odor. It causes me to open my eyes but before that, the sensation in my head almost knocks the wind right out of me. My head booms and throbs and I squeeze my eyes shut before letting them slowly lift open.

It's as if I'm in a dream, the familiar sound still drifting through the room, and I finally take note of my surroundings.

I'm naked. I'm on the floor.

There are slumbering bodies all around me, one stranger's hand even slumped onto my waist. I look down in horror and crawl away, the contact of his skin making me gasp in disbelief. I place both of my palms over my gaping mouth and my sight shifts from person to person.

Alois is on the couch, literally asleep on two men. The cocaine that was there before is no longer visible, only a clouded dusting of white dirtying the glass in its wake. Wine cups are empty, and bottles of lotion and trash litter the floor in which I lie.

I shuffle my body backwards and try to locate my clothing. The ringing is persistent and when I finally concentrate on the sound I realize that it's the alarm to my cell phone. My head shifts in the direction and I locate my pants crumpled carelessly in a corner by the television.

No no no. It's all I can think, all I can process. I get to my feet and stumble as I walk, almost tripping on my own legs as I traverse the four feet to my destination.

I bend down to pick up my pants and when I straighten my back again this searing pain shoots throughout my entire body. I close my eyes because it's just that severe, and I shove one of my hands into the pocket of my trousers and pull out the blaring device.

At first I can't process what's happening, but little by little I start to panic. When I look at the screen on my phone it reads 12:00 P.M. Like a rush of memories I grit my teeth and remember that I was supposed to meet Sebastian at ten in the morning. I swipe my finger over the phone and the screen that pops up sends me into the most horrible anxiety-attack I've ever had in my life. Nine missed calls. All from Sebastian's number. Numerous unread texts. Every alert possible showing up and slapping me in the face.

I look up in disbelief, thinking maybe this is a nightmare. And then that's when I see it.

My reflection in the large TV.

My jaw drops slightly and I touch my hips and chest and neck. My body is littered with enormous bruises, stains, imperfections, signs of infidelity, of lack of trust.

I shift my eyes from the television to my actual skin and let out this horrible whine, soft at first but then growing with the assistance of anguish. I have hickeys everywhere. Large, disgusting bite marks. Big, swollen patches of tarnished flesh from who knows what.

My heart beats faster and faster and I begin to cry and shiver and shake. Tears fall down my cheeks and my discolored chest convulses as I quietly sob.

I just ruined my life, my future. I ruined him and I, I ruined us. I ruined everything I ever wanted and everything I ever needed. I completely lost myself, I lost my reasoning and my pride, I betrayed my own morals and I gave in to the one thing I never wanted to do ever again.

…I relapsed.

..


	16. Chapter 16

_"If I don't make it through this then I am ruined for life, for death, for eternity."_

* * *

Relapse.

The word itself is equivalent to failure, to weakness. There is nothing misconstrued or distorted in any way whatsoever because I know that I am the epitome of both. I've really hit rock bottom.

My body is stained with the mouths of others, tainted with the pressure of their lips and teeth. The disgusting discoloration makes me want to vomit yet I am still left standing here, staring at my reflection in the television.

The welts are so numerous and great in size, my neck being the primary victim of this sickening attack. Sebastian's previous mark rests beautifully a couple of inches below my ear, and my head tilts back to count the number of hickeys that flank it. Six. They sit higher on my neck, visible to anyone who would ever come into contact with me. They might as well be right on my face for these vile bruises would be impossible to hide.

My fingers clench around my cell and the clothes I just discovered and I rip my gaze from the horror which is my body when I hear a light groan.

Alois moves his grotesquely frail body over the pile of tanned skins and greasy dicks that he rests upon. I watch as he yawns and stretches his arms into the stale air and at that moment I wouldn't doubt if this is how he wakes up every single day.

"Wake up!" I stumble towards the couch as I loop my legs through the holes of my pants and the only emotion I currently feel is anger. Pure, unbridled, condensed fucking anger. Rage.

I stuff my phone into my pocket and then zip myself up as I watch his glassy drugged-out eyes lift open. His hair is a matted mess, his body is malnourished and his eyes are sunken in and sickly yet his skin is flawless, clear of bruises, which bothers me to such an extent that I can feel my insides twist with contempt.

"What the fuck did you do to me last night, huh?" My bare foot slams onto the glass coffee table and I kick that shit over, sending all the cups and drugs and trash crashing down onto the floor along with the enormous pane that cracks right down the middle.

Everyone wakes up as some have been hit with debris and the groans that gurgle out of their revolting mouths makes my jaw clench tightly in disgust.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?"

The faces of the lackeys are confused and incoherent and they look at their master for instruction on how to process normal human emotions. The sick son of a bitch waves his hand calmly in the air as he rises right up from the bed of naked men, uncaring that his furniture has just been shattered to pieces.

"Relax little puppies, the pissed off prince is barely realizing what you all did to him last night." His face turns from the dogs to me and he smiles as he eyes my chest up and down, "and boy what a number you lads did on him".

"What the fuck was in that piss-poor wine of yours, Alois - you don't just fucking black out by snorting some equally shitty coke."

He curls his fingertips in front of his face and nonchalantly checks them out, fanning each digit like being an asshole was his calling in life.

"Oh you know, a little of this, a little of that, it's nothing to concern yourself with, Ciel, really. My men here are all clean and virginal." He giggles softly and it makes me ball my fists. "Well, this batch were all untouched until last night, at least."

Not only do I find that extremely hard to believe, but his words barely even register as I am enveloped with this madness of anger that causes me to yell my words from this moment on.

"FUCK YOU. I wanted no part in this disgusting fucking orgy - look what your fucking little sex-slaves did to me!" I extend my arms out, presenting my bruised body before him and I almost lunge at the man when he begins to slowly nod his head from left to right.

"Oh no, love, you must have mistaken my words. My dogs don't bite or kiss or love - they only suck and fuck." His naked form steps over the strewn glass of the coffee table and he walks right up to me with that arrogant smile on his lips. "While you and I were both riding our respective men, you see, I started to become a bit jealous of your flawless skin,...so I pulled you close an-"

My fist immediately collides into his cheek and there is a loud smack of flesh being pummeled and it's music to my ears. Right as he stumbles backwards I can feel my heart speed up and tempt me into hitting him yet again. I feel this adrenaline inside of me, this strictly male urge that wants to rip this sorry excuse for a human being to pieces.

"My fucking _FACE!_ " He grunts and grasps the side of his jaw, his teeth beginning to stain his mouth as they bleed onto his lips. "What the fuck is WRONG with you?!"

"How dare you lay a hand on me, Trancy, you piece of fucking garbage you bastard son, I am fucking warning you right now - put your hands or mouth on me one more time and you'll never walk again."

A couple of his men rush over and dote on their master, touching his naked shoulders and face. He shrugs them off, uncaring of their sudden drug-induced philanthropy and spits a wad of blood a mere foot from where I stand. His face finally reflects his actual mood and it twist into a menacing, evil expression that I immediately wince at.

"You weren't so opposed to it last night when you were begging to be fucked like the whore you are, Phantomhive." He wipes his mouth with his forearm and looks at the streak of blood as if he's impressed. "And to think you couldn't even get it up the whole night! Hah!"

His laughter makes me furious but his words make sick. I am being filled with barbaric emotions, with inner voices that are commanding me to attack and maim and incapacitate this wretched, twisted individual.

"Ohh, Sebastian, Sebastian!" My eyes immediately narrow when he mocks me and speaks the name that he doesn't deserve to say. That name is too good for him, it means too much and is worth more than he could ever imagine yet it falls so carelessly from his bloodied lips.

"All night long even while you were bent over the couch it was Sebastian this and Sebastian that, blah blah blah who IS this mysterious Sebastian, hm? Is he the one that gave you that enormous hickey you came in here with? Who gives hickeys at our age anyway - what a loser! Don't you know it's quite pathetic to be picking up high school boys, Ciel?"

The lechery in his voice, the way he smiles, the way he licks his own stained lips and laughs - none of that bothers me more than when he speaks of Sebastian. Of  _my_  Sebastian, of the single sole human being on this earth who is the embodiment of perfection, of innocence. Of the man who is selfless and pure, who wears his heart on his sleeve and is the only person who could ever forgive such a troubled soul such as myself. He's my savior, he's all I have left and I want him more than anything I could ever desire. To speak ill of him is on par with wronging my family and sullying my name - and I could never let something like that slide.

"Ooo~" He belittles me and widens his dirty blue eyes, "have I hit a nerve? You going to punch me again like some reckless beast? Is this mysterious Sebastian whose name you moaned as you swallowed up every dick in this room someone of THAT much importance?"

My bare chest rises and falls hard with every breath I take. My vision sharpens almost, my mind focuses on a single goal, on instinct. The instinct to protect what I cherish most and what I'm all too afraid to lose.

"To think someone actually warmed your cold dead heart is so laughable, Ciel, really!" He cackles maniacally and holds his emaciated stomach, "he must reaaaally be a charmer, that Sebastian. A handsome face, makes money maybe - a big dick, yeah? Tell me, do you think I can sample him, can't you just see me locked onto his cock and just mm, riding him so hard that I scream ah, Sebastian! Mm, Sebastian, yeah - Sebasti-"

His head smacks against the floor as I tackle him and begin to wail on him and beat him as hard as I can, as often as possible. My fists are flying, my heart is racing, my mind is blank and my mouth opens and just screams.

"Fuck you, fuck you, you fucking good for nothing orphan you cheap lowlife, you loose slut!"

By the third time my knuckles collide with his cheek two of his men grab me from each of my shoulders and pull me off of him. My arms are still flailing, punching the air when I start to see him crawl back and my assumptions of him being psychologically unstable are confirmed when he tilts his head back and begins to chuckle, the blood in his mouth dripping down his chin.

"You're shit, Alois! You're a piece of shit, your values are shit, your existence is shit, and your business is shit - just like your sorry excuse for a family." Before I am lifted entirely from him I go completely against any moral fiber that I possess and spit right onto his face, snarling at his disposition.

"You're a sad excuse for a human, you're a man of leisure and you lack the capability to dictate the differences between right and wrong. You live a sedentary, useless life and your seedy, lecherous, hypocritical ways of living will come back to haunt you, Alois. If you ever touch me, no, if you even speak about me or my family or anyone else I am involved with - I will fucking take this house right from under you. I will bankrupt you and vilify your name and steal each and every person who has ever done business with you. If you ruin my life I'm going to make yours a living hell. If you speak that name again I will pluck out your snakelike tongue, and if you fucking say ONE word to anyone about any of this I will fucking expose you as the maladjusted drug-addicted fiend you truly are."

"GET HIM OUT OF HERE! OUT! NOW! OUTOUTOUT!" He screams at the top of his whorish lungs.

I feel rough, dried-out fingers wrap around my shirtless chest and shove me backwards towards the door. I jerk my body back and push the two men, freeing myself. My eyes lock onto theirs and I look at them in disgust because I know one if not both of them were most likely inside of me last night.

"Touch me again and I'll rip your small, rotting dicks right off of you."

They retract their naked bodies and stand there uncomfortably, creating a wall between me and the sight of a pummeled Alois. I scoff at all of them and with nothing but a pair of pants and my cell I exit the despicable conditions of the Trancy manor.

* * *

The afternoon sun is as high as it can get, and the temperature outside blankets my body with the dry heat of summer. I jog over the hot gravel of the driveway and the bottom of my bare feet practically sizzle with each step.

My mind is simply focusing on escaping this place, yet I can't help but feel the throbbing in my hands. I hold both palms out in front of me as I run and I wince at the blood that covers my right knuckles.

It fucking hurts.

When I attempt to open and close the hand, my fingers stiffen and I growl at the rapidly increasing pain. Almost immediately after, I feel my phone vibrate within my pocket, and the realization of the reality of this situation blindsides me, stopping me right in my tracks.

I am a mere foot from the large gate of the estate, and before I even reach for my cell I look up and let out a harsh breath of relief.

My driver is standing there leaning on my car as if he's been there since morning. I should not be surprised, as I have put him through worse, but that is why he makes a six-figure income - to wait for my bruised, shoeless, half-naked body to come out of some mansion in the middle of the day. I cannot say he has not seen worse, because the poor man probably has.

"Thank you for coming, how long have you been here?" I approach the vehicle and I want to leave so bad that I open the door myself and give my driver a curt nod, begging for his compliance to quicken his pace.

"Mr. Phantomhive! Oh my, are you alright?" His elderly face twists with concern and I answer him by getting into the car and shutting the door. He scrambles inside, forgoing his seat-belt to start the engine.

"Take me home, with haste."

* * *

My hair is wet as it sticks to the sides of my ears and I am bundled tightly in my white cotton bathrobe. I'm sitting in my dining room, currently devouring a large plate of chicken pesto pasta, my fork twirling into the large mass as I eye my cell placed about a foot in front of me.

I've yet to check my messages or voicemails. I need to yell at my father and then apologize to him for yelling, and then I need to deal with what I'm going to say to Sebastian. The entire car ride over here I sat with my head in my hands, and when I arrived to the sanctity of my estate I immediately soaked and scrubbed for two hours straight. I can't take back what I did, or why I did it, so there is nothing else I can do than tell him the truth. I don't want lies between us I want to start anew for him and be pure for him. I'll do anything for his acceptance.

Sebastian, forgive me. You don't know how bad I wish you were here caring for me, doting on me...feeding me.

His name on my mind makes my tongue intensify the flavor of my food. The fork rests between the confines of my lips and when I slowly slide it out of my mouth my eyes shut as I think only about him. Each flavor I pick apart compares to how he tastes, yet there is no comparing the two. This is savory, yet he is oh so sweet. His mouth is like a dessert rather than an entree, although I'm sure he can sate my hunger any day of the week.

As I chew I have his handsome face in mind and the movement of my jaw causes a flash of a memory to appear before me. His texture, the temperature of his flesh, the taste of his innocence, the spice of his sex as it pushed into my mouth.

I swallow so loud that the sound practically bounces off the walls of my empty kitchen.

At least my throat and mouth and tongue were not victim to the unspeakable events that happened last night. I only want those virgin lips to press against mine, as nothing else is more worthy, nothing else more perfect than his.

I shove the fork into the pasta and take another two bites as I now try not to think about him too much, the thoughts rendering me incapable of desiring any other type of sustenance.

I chew like I was raised to, mouth closed, chin up - perfect. No mess, no disrespect, all class. It's such a contradiction to the rest of my body, battered bruised and bitten by the beast whose name I dare not give my time to even mentally speak. I swear if he ever shows his repulsive face ever again I will maim him.

I perch my silver fork on the edge of my plate when the table starts to shake. It's my phone. My gaze averts to the food on my plate but out of half-guilt and half curiosity I slide my eyes back to the device.

My father is calling and I couldn't be more relieved that it's him. My hand slaps down onto the phone and I swipe it quickly with the pad of my finger.

"DAD!"

I can almost hear him move the phone away from his ear at the childish way I address him, but for a lack of a better phrase - I really couldn't give a fuck.

"What happened last night? Did you forget to call me?! I was trapped in that house like a prisoner of war!"

" _Ciel, I did call you. We spoke briefly, you told me you'd find your way home and then you ended the conversation. Do you not remember_?"

Shit. No, father of course I don't remember I was too drugged up and bent over various pieces of furniture in order to comprehend our little chat.

"I don't recall, it must have been all that...cheap wine that abhorrent individual forced onto me."

He groans into the phone and then sighs, " _I took the liberty of overlooking the way you sounded, Ciel. Belligerent. Drunk beyond reason, completely incomprehensible. I hope you didn't upset that little heir_."

Upset, well, I suppose I did a tiny bit more than that, not that I'd ever expose my actions.

"Of course not, father. I apologize. Did negotiations go well?"

I can tell he's smiling and when I hear my mother in the background he gives me a grunt of affirmation.

" _All is settled, business went smoothly, we will never have to go back to the Trancy manor again._ "

I try not to squeal and bite my lip as I smile. That trashy pile of shit will never stain us with his presence, what can I say I am completely overjoyed.

"Perfect. I'll call mom later, send her my best I have business to attend to now."

" _Get some rest, son. There is more work ahead of us from this day forward, remember that_."

I say my goodbye and then wait for him to end the call. Despite the unwanted sexcapades of the previous night this is all turning out well. Now all I need to do is fix things with Sebastian...

..

I place my empty plate into the sink and sigh as I clench my phone because I'm still unsure of what to say to the man I left just yesterday. My robe brushes against my thighs whenever I take a step, the soft cotton fluttering open when I make my way up my enormous staircase. It's already early evening and my house is darkening as the sun begins to set. I grow nervous as I open the door to the terrace that extends out past my bedroom.

It's still hot, the air thick and slightly humid, enough to make me breathe out in defeat of the weather. My bare feet thud against the large stone tiles and I finally rest on a large wooden lounge chair.

"I just need to tell him the truth..." my finger swipes over my phone screen and I finally check all of his messages.

[Ciel let me know if you'll be late - I'm waiting.]

[Are you okay? Please call.]

[I'm so worried about you, I've called you several times...please be okay.]

[If you don't answer I'm going to go check on you after work.]

My eyes widen at the last message and I almost drop the phone. No no no he can't come here he can't see me so soon after leaving the torturous conditions of that snake's estate. I check the time-stamp of the text and see that it was a couple of hours ago, most likely when I was scraping and scrubbing myself from the inside out.

I have to call him.

I feel sick, broken, my insides knotted with guilt when I press the call button and lift the device to my ear. I stare out into the cloudless sky and wrap an arm around my abdomen to help me cope with what I've done to myself. The phone rings only once until I hear him pick up.

My heart is swallowed when it tries to escape through my throat and his deep voice is like heaven to me.

" _God, Ciel. Are you okay?! Where are you_?!"

I'm rendered speechless at the urgency of his voice and it fucking kills me to hear him so sincere. The sound that comes out of his beautiful mouth makes me melt and calms me and excites me all at the same.

" _Ciel? Are you there_?!"

Fuck he is too fucking adorable.

"I'm here. I'm at home, I'm safe. Sorry I missed all your messages I had some business with my father and didn't have time to call you..."

He releases this soft sigh of relief and the urge to see him increases a tenfold. A hundredfold.

" _I was so worried. I'm glad you're safe - when...when can I see you? What about tonight_?"

His voice is so cautious and nervous that I want to beat my own head with my phone at how fucking cute he is. His hesitant prose, his innocent doting - his desperation to see me god oh god fucking kill me it's too much it really is too much for me.

"I can't tonight...I'm really tired. Can I come see you in a couple of days?"

I take a chance in hopes that he will accept my request for a delay.

" _No, tomorrow_."

He shoots me down.

I lick my lips and stare out into the darkening sky trying to search for an excuse but I find none. I told myself I would be honest with him, so I suppose I don't have a choice. Surely he'll still accept me...he's perfection incarnate, he doesn't have any other choice. Neither do I.

"Okay. Tomorrow, your office...how about around one?"

" _Nine in the morning, if you can...would be best_..."

His persistence is so fucking endearing that I just absentmindedly hum out a 'yes' and nod my head as if he could see me.

" _Perfect. I'll be waiting for you then_."

Ugh, if the vibrations of sound in his dulcet voice could tug at my heart my erratically thumping organ would be blasted right through my chest and sent reeling into the atmosphere to never be seen again.

"Bye, Sebastian" I practically purr into the receiver because I know he loves it when I say his name. I'm right, too, because right after I speak it I can hear him swallow right before he softly laughs, mumbling his goodbye.

" _Um, hm, g-goodbye...Ciel_."

As much as I dislike it, I hang up first and then place the phone on my reclining legs. Tomorrow is too soon. My bruises will be worse by then. I have to come up with a strategy, I have to do everything I can to keep him because if I lose him I'll lose myself as well.

* * *

It's 8:50am and my black shoes click onto the hard floor as I cautiously enter the building that I'm all too familiar with. Immediately turning around, I exit said building.

Okay, wait, no. Pulling the door for the second time, I walk back in.

And then I go for the exit again.

I'm now outside, the calm air of the morning doing absolutely nothing for my nerves. Before I arrived I spent another two hours in the shower, just in case I missed any remaining spunk from that horrid night. Every time I think of the incident my anger intensifies and I swear I can feel the flames of my rage burn at my sides.

I'm a grown man, an experienced man, so I will not let what happened cripple my composure or my ultimate goal. If, in the highly unlikely event that Sebastian does not forgive me, then and only then will all hell break loose and the recessed, engorged emotions of manic aggression that lie in the pit of my stomach come purging right out of me.

Not that something like that would ever happen to me, I think to myself as I walk back inside for the third time. Surely I can explain my situation well enough for him to understand. He is a therapist after all, and he is kind and gentle and, ugh, shit.

I stop in the middle of the long corridor and nervously comb the sides of my hair with nervous fingers. I look down at my black slacks and hate the way they perfectly fall down the expanse of my legs. The tailored cloth mocks me, as my lower half is more tainted than not.

The crisp, virginal white of my long-sleeved dress shirt only adds in to the equation of my despicable wardrobe, this sick fusion of fucking clothes that taunts me as they rest upon my skin. I look so pristine, every button buttoned and every wrinkle pressed and flattened and forced into submitting to its proper shape, yet I am still tainted and wrinkled and stained even literally with the marks of adulterous activities.

I can't freak out now, I have to pull myself together I must compose myself and wade through the difficulties of this terribly bleak and morose test of self-preservation. If I don't make it through this then I am ruined for life, for death, for eternity.

I breathe in and then out and walk to the elevator like I fucking own it. This place is so empty that I can almost hear my pretentious heightening of confidence resound all around me. When the doors slide open I lift my chin and enter, pushing the button to the second floor with zero hesitation.

As the reflective doors shut, I take a look at myself and tilt my head to the side, exposing my neck and releasing all affirmations I ever had of myself.

The mark he gave me when he wildly latched onto my throat and practically sucked me dry is still the most prominent, but there is no doubt that other sick, ugly hickeys that came from that sleazy rat are completely visible.

They disgrace the real estate of my flesh, they soil my monogamy and blemish the trust that I know Sebastian once had for me. If this is the last time I see him I swear I'll-...

The drawn-out ding interrupts my deprecation of self and sends me out into the real world of consequence and punishment. With the simple clearing of my throat I step out of the cab and slowly make my way to his office, my nerves getting the absolute best of me.

"Mr. Phantomhive how nice to see you again you look well!" It's her. The only receptionist in the world who still dresses like it's 1975.

Her cheerful green eyes widen and crinkle as she smiles and yet I say nothing. I look at her as I walk and then pass her without a word escaping my nervous lips. She mumbles something like 'go right ahead' and then reverts back to smashing her multi-ringed fingers on the poor unsuspecting keyboard, as inanimate as it may seem.

I reach the front of his office and fully face it. The wood of the door is about a foot from my face and I will admit it – I'm scared. I fear his rejection, I fear his solution to the problems I've given the both of us. I swear if he forgives me and tells me we will never have sex I wouldn't even care, I just want him I just need him I don't want anything or anyone else his mere presence is enough for me, his touch is something I would never ever take for granted.

My hand shakes as I place it on the cool surface of the knob and just when I think that maybe I should knock first, the door flies open.

My eyes widen, my lips part to inhale the oxygen that I so desperately require, and my heart just stops.

"Ciel, I knew it was you."

He grabs my wrist and pulls me into his office in a blur of events that I can't even process.

In the next second my chest is pressed against his and he shuts the door with his foot as he hugs me so tightly that I am second-guessing that this might in fact be a dream.

But it's oh so vivid that there is no doubt I reside in reality. His neck nudges into mine and his tall form is hunched over me as one of his arms wraps around my waist. I take a step back because his hard body jerks me out of balance, but I soon succumb to his touch and loop my arms around his chest.

He's wearing all black as if he were mourning, not a single article of a different color given the chance to adorn the pristine shape of his body. And then I finally notice it – his right arm is in a sling, his hand wrapped up completely in bandages.

"Sebasti-"

"I missed you." His deep voice dances into my left ear and I swallow at the way he's acting. My main concern now is his arm, or his hand, or wrist I'm not even sure what it is that needs healing but I wouldn't mind taking his mind off of the pain, sedating him with my words and curing him with everything I have.

"Your hand…what happened?"

I blush when he squeezes me harder and backs me into the door.

"I really missed you." He repeats himself and I can't get enough of it either. The amount of times my shoulders have been pressed against a wall or floor or door with this man is too often to count. He loves pinning me to something, and you don't have to fucking ask me twice if I like it or not.

I love it.

"Tell me..."

"My hand. I was so upset when you left, I acted irrationally, I punched…I punched my wall. My hand and wrist are sore and I have wounds on my knuckles…"

I push him softly against his firm chest and secretly feel the muscles that lay under the thin black t-shirt he wears. My eyes look down and I see the tips of his fingers curled around heavy bandages. The sound I heard after I left his apartment was indeed him being left alone with only the anger I gave him.

"I'm sorry." The words leave my lips as my head is still looking down at his injury. Not only was it my fault but it could have easily been prevented. If I only told him how I felt sooner none of this would have happened. Now that I think of it…I still haven't told him how I feel or the heavy emotions that weigh me down day after day and night after night. He still thinks I'm some sex-fiend and I need to assure him that I'm not, that the only thing I'm fiending for is him.

But I have a problem which contradicts my plan.

My neck is exposed when he moves away from it, and when there is silence in reply to my apology my eyes slide from his hand to his face.

I feel sick. I feel like throwing up, like disappearing into thin air, like running away.

"Ciel…what is…" his eyebrows twist angrily and his lips press together as he takes his working hand and gently tilts my head to the side.

I can almost pinpoint the precise moment in time in which his heart breaks. The exact second that he realizes what he's seeing his eyes widen slightly, his breathing increases, the grasp he has on my chin tightens. I can almost smell him getting angrier.

I have a view of his soft strands of hair brushing against the smooth flesh of his Adam's apple and I just focus on it as I remain completely speechless.

"What is all this…who…w-where did you get these from?" His voice shakes and he straightens my head so we are forced to stare right at one another. I look up at him because he's so much taller than me. He's stronger, and there is no doubt he can be more forceful if he wished it.

Our lips are so close yet I can tell by his expression that I will probably never feel them ever again. My nightmares have come true, the beginning of the end is here I can just taste it. It's bitter and acidic and I keep swallowing that single invasion of emotion.

"I can explain…the night I left your apartment I-"

"No!" His voice is aggressive and he removes his hand from my face and practically rips at the collar of my shirt, popping off the first two buttons as he carelessly claws at the fabric.

His eyes dart back and forth from each new bruise he encounters. I am being ripped apart from the inside as well, and sadness and guilt fill me to the brim as I lock onto every detail of his face.

"Sebastian, I'm s-"

"Take off your clothes, Ciel."

He steps back and lifts his chin as his eyebrows knit into the most hurt and pained expression I've ever seen him wear. I don't even fully understand his demand until he jerks me forward by grabbing the collar of my shirt and pulls me off of the door, his strength dominating every muscle I possess, shaking me - scaring me.

"All of them – take them off." His piercing eyes slide up and down my shivering body, never meeting my gaze because he's just that overwhelmed with anger.

"I want to see all of you - right now."

..


	17. Chapter 17

_"I don't defy the laws of physics or surpass the constraints of reality."_

* * *

The air in which I breathe is thick with tension, hot with the way he exhales through his teeth, and as heavy as the hand that jerks my body forward once again. Our mouths are so close yet his will to kiss me has probably been engulfed by flames and incinerated into non-existence, through no fault of his own of course.

This is all my doing.

I feel his fingers dig into the cloth of my collar, I feel his arm shake with the depravity of control, of reasoning. He's turned into a man of rage and confusion and pain and as my eyes meet his I feel my tongue grow thick in my mouth.

"T-take it off, Ciel, I mean it! What did you do!"

It's not even a question the way he's carelessly blurting everything out. His lips are wet with a thin sheen of saliva as he speaks and his words leave the tip of his flushed lips in slight fluctuations of shaky and pained to authoritative and angry. I feel as if he's about to kiss me and kill me all at the same time for the sole reason that he stares at me with this intensity that's so potent that it makes my knees weak. I lie, actually, for my whole body feels as if it's turned into some coagulated, boneless form of its previous self.

My eyes dare not move from the confines of his stare yet my hands slowly rise and I grip the wrist that is shoved into my neck. All ten of my digits wrap around his heated skin and I try to speak I swear I try to form the simplest of words but I am left speechless, soundless, defenseless.

I've never let anyone manhandle me like this, demand so much from me, question me, shake me up, tear me down, leave me breathless, wordless, unable to think or rationalize or move. He paralyzes me and I'm at a loss for what to say to him. He trusted me, he believed that I would be only his, he believed that I would never touch another.

But I did. Ever since returning from the Trancy manor of horror, I keep having these sickening flashbacks. I see myself having sex with these men, these drugged-out, ugly disgusting men and it fucking kills me. It tears me up and internally rips all of my emotions from me. Their skin slapping against mine, that disgusting putrid smell of their sweat, the sound of their loud perverse grunting that played alongside the deafening thuds of their jack-rabbit thrusts. The thoughts haunted me last night and left me plagued with guilt and I am sure that they will haunt me for many days to come, perhaps even for an eternity I'm not even sure.

"You're...hurting me." I finally breathe out and wince when he practically lifts me from my feet and slams me against the nearest wall, my back being the primary victim to the collision.

"Ngh, a-ouch." I softly grunt in reaction to my pain as I let him do whatever he wants to me.

"You're not answering me! You're not doing as I say! Let me see you, I need to see everything, Ciel, I..." The hurt look on my face causes him to look away, a battle of good and evil conflicting his actions.

He's so sweet, so caring and so hopelessly innocent that even  _he_  questions his own justifiable actions. As he averts his eyes I can see the pain in his expression, the way his top lip curves and how his jaw moves slightly. His hair decorates the side of his handsome face and his cheeks are red with anger or shame or perhaps a bit of both.

His grip on my collar suddenly loosens until it is gone completely, and his eyes slide over to me once again.

We look at one another and I say nothing still, my hands falling to my sides, my palms now flush against the wall in what seems like a defensive stance. But I'm not scared of him, because fuck - I'm in love with him. I fear for his actions and his thoughts and emotions, yes, but there is not a thing he could physically do to ever make me scared of him.

Unless, of course, he leaves me. But that is not fear or sadness or doubt - it's terror. If he were to ever disappear from my life...I don't even know what I would do. Insanity, most likely, would be the most accurate answer. Turmoil, pain, suffering. Hell on earth.

I decide that in order to keep him, I'm going to have to give him what he wants.

"Sebastian...I did something that was wrong, okay?" I lift my right hand from the wall and slowly lift it to his face. My palm slides against his heated cheek and he quickly slaps it away, the sting of his forceful hand causing my eyes to well with tears.

"No! Don't slap my hand away, I'm trying to explain!"

"I don't care I need to see - I have to see what you did first!"

His voice makes my heart swell with affliction and I can see the same pain reflected in his own. I want to calm him down and tell him that everything is okay but he's acting so brash and irrational that I can't get through to him.

"Please...let me touch you."

I raise my hand once again slowly as if petting a wild animal and I'm riddled with anguish when he jerks back, acting as if I'd soil him with merely a touch. He rejects me and this condensed wave of melancholic emotion just engulfs me until I feel like I'm drowning.

"Get your hands away from me." He mutters under his breath.

I'm the kind of sad where your mouth automatically falls into a frown and your insides twist and knot with unease. I'm the kind of sad where my lips begin to shake and my body begins to feel weighted and burdened and useless. I'm the kind of sad where tears start streaming down my face and the heat of their trails can be felt throughout the entire expanse of both my reddened cheeks. I'm being broken apart and torn piece by piece and I'm losing control of myself - that's how sad I am.

To be shunned by the only man I want to touch, to have him refuse me as if I'm a piece of trash on the street...I cry silently without shame and without a single noise escaping my own two lips. I stare at him and he doesn't even have the nerve to look at me. He holds onto the elbow of his injured arm and watches the floor until I bite my bottom lip and blurt out a final request from him.

"Kiss me, Sebastian."

His eyes shift to my face and when he notices that tears are trickling down my cheeks he clenches his jaw and looks like he wants to push every doubt to the side and rescue me from this anguish that I harbor. He steps closer to me like he's doing it without thinking and I can hear him release a breath as if my current emotional state is causing him physical pain.

I can see it written all over his face that he wants to connect with me and hold me and taste me but to say that a 26yr old virgin is without patience is, well, simply untrue - he's an expert at control. He has tolerated temptation for his entire adult life and when he stops and closes his eyes for a couple of seconds I know that he is having second thoughts, I know that he is pushing his need to touch me far far away until it is completely inaccessible.

"He kissed you." He says, his innocence never contemplating that I could have ever been with more than one man in one night.

"No one kissed me." This, as far as I can recollect, and from the words of that snake Trancy himself - is true.

"You're lying! Look at your neck there's no way he didn't kiss you he practically ate you whole who was it?!  _WHO WAS IT_?"

His good arm slams against the wall right by my face and I flinch at the loud thud it creates. It seems his own words have upset him even more and he is changing back into that untamed animal with an intense lack of reasoning. I can see his bicep flex and push the sleeve of his shirt up, causing me to go a bit crazy myself.

But his face, god, his face is so close to mine that this adrenaline-charged man would only need to move an inch to touch me. As he looks down on me his hair escapes from the back of his ear and trickles slightly onto my cheek, my eyes quickly glancing at the strands before I look back into his eyes.

"Taste me, I promise I'm the same - kiss me and tell my you don't feel something." My mouth still wilts into a frown and I make sure not to touch him as I plead with my eyes and beg with my lips, licking them slightly, biting them in desperation.

He shakes his head, denying my request. "I don't want to kiss you".

My heart breaks for the millionth time and I can't help but let out a muffled, almost inaudible hiccup as tears start to unwillingly stream down my face. I close my eyes and lean my head back into the wall in defeat, knowing that once he sees the bruises on my body I'll be done for completely and the chance to taste him will be no more. The chance to be with him will be no more.

I can hear him swallow as I just stand there, giving up on everything I've tried so hard to preserve. I shut my eyes tighter and breathe through parted lips, wanting nothing more than to remove myself from this torturous situation. I don't sob or sniffle or whine I just spiral down into this horrible pit of unease and let my face and neck become soiled with the tears that my body can't help but create.

In the same second that I think about opening my eyes, I am paralyzed with shock when I feel the heat of his breath hovering over my cheek. I stop breathing, my fingertips scrape against the wall behind me and I gasp slightly when he licks the side of my mouth and halts the stream of tears by gently lapping at my skin.

My eyes shoot open and my insides twist with confusion when I feel his lips press onto my own. I'm taken aback by the action but I let him do as he pleases, opening my mouth and inspecting me for whatever the hell he wants. I don't even care anymore as long as I can make this kiss last an eternity he can do as he wishes.

Our bodies don't touch, our faces don't touch, but our tongues collide and curl over one another in hard, desperate rolls that cause the both of us to grunt out softly. Our sultry breaths are quickly masked by the sounds of our lips smacking and suckling and sliding all over the damn place and it's like I'm human again, like he's breathing life into me, like none of this ever even happened.

His mouth is warm, his tongue is hot, his taste sets me aflame and I tilt my head and jerk myself forward to press into him even more. His jaw widens at the action and he examines my mouth like a fucking sleuth searching for clues in every nook and cranny and crevice. He investigates the flavors the texture the taste of my tongue and as his forceful muscle dominates and claims authority over me I try to tame the urge to hold him and bring him close.

I just want to touch, I want to be touched. I yearn for the affirmation of his embrace, for the acceptance of my actions and the forgiveness that I don't deserve. I'm greedy, and I want more. I'm stubborn, and I act out on my desires. I'm hopeless, and I really regret what I do next.

As he probes my throat and fogs my mind I move without pause. My tears have ceased to fall and in their wake I'm left only with the desire to be in his arms. I moan into his mouth and simultaneously lift my shaky hand up to his face, cupping his cheek and feeling his skin on mine as he works me over with his tongue.

"Ngh, stop!" He breaks our kiss and moves back, placing his forearm over his mouth and panting like I just stole his last breath, "stop tricking me!"

"What do you mean?!" I can't even react to our separation more so than I can react to his preposterous words, " _tricking_?"

"You're using your...your tactics on me. What you use with other men, what you use to feed your addiction and I fall for it! I'm just some stupid puppet to you, someone who you think you can control. I told you no yet you lured me in by trying to act hurt, you take advantage of me because I care about you and you ignore my demands!"

My eyes dart back and forth as my eyebrows knit in confusion. Tactics? Lured? ACTING hurt? So many modes of defense are trying to burst through my lips but I just blurt out the first thing I can think of because if I cease to say a word I might mentally cripple myself.

"I'm not luring you, you fucking idiot! I'm not acting either I'm genuinely hurt because I fucking care about you can't you see that?!"

I watch him and at first he seems surprised at my words and he lets his arm dangle down to his side as he stares at me. Not a second passes until his stubborn mind gets the best of him and he refutes my confession rather disrespectfully.

"We both know that's not true. You just want to sleep with me, you've never been in love, you don't even know what it feels like you're just lusting after me like some...teenager."

Fuck this. All of my efforts, all of my turmoil and distress that have been more genuine than even I have ever experienced amount to nothing? To this horrid accusation, to this despicable insult that he believes to be true?

Something within me snaps and my right fist curls into itself, locking my digits in place. The instinct to defend myself from such an offensive allegation takes over my entire body and I move forward and snarl as I lift my arm and take a swing at the man I just exposed all of myself to.

"Fuck you!" My fist goes flying towards him and I shut my eyes for a split second until I feel my knuckles crash against...

His palm.

The crippled giant blocks my swing and slides his hand down to my wrist and in two seconds I'm pulled forward, turned around, and he has me in a lock when he pushes my chest against the wall and holds my arm firmly behind my back. His entire body is flush against mine and I grunt at how he smashes into me with his hip.

"No violence, Ciel."

His tall fucking form drapes over all of me and his face hangs low, his lips on my ear as his deep voice softly reverberates through me.

"Now take off your clothes like I asked."

"I don't want to! Let go of me, rgh!" I struggle weakly and let my heavy breath cascade against the cool wall as he ignores every word that comes out of me.

"You don't even know how worried I was yesterday. I thought something horrible happened to you, it made me sick. But the entire time you were letting some other man touch you."

His voice cracks and shifts in demeanor, becoming shaky with anger and sadness and everything in between. I stop struggling in response to the soft breath I feel in my ear and my eyes close at the way he blankets my back.

"I know I can't have...sex yet, but trust me Ciel I was willing to compromise with you. I would have tried anything to keep you, to satisfy you, I-"

"No, I don't want you to compromise! I fucked up okay it was my fault I relapsed I didn't know what I was doing I didn't-"

"So you  _did_  have sex with him."

Fuck. I keep thinking that he knows this by the way my neck has been mauled but he doesn't even know the half of it.

I struggle as my face presses firmly against the wall and I don't want to answer him. I just want him to be okay, I want us to be okay I want to travel backwards and extract the point in time in which I failed him and let those dogs lay their hands on me.

"If you don't answer me, I'll..." he nudges his nose into my neck gently and breathes me in, his soft lips tracing my skin ever so slightly, "I'll go crazy".

He tortures me with his touch and I gasp out a breath before I answer him.

"I did." I confess.

He releases me.

I'm left slumped onto the wall, my hand now free, my body no longer chained by his dominance. I hate it. I fear turning around, I'm scared of his face and even more frightened of what he'll say. All of this and I haven't even told him that there was more than one disgusting dick I rode that night, ugh, it makes me despise myself and I can't keep holding all of this in. He deserves to know the whole truth and there's no better time to tell him than now.

"I slept with more than one..." I tell the man behind me, eyes closed, body weak and mind completely focused on the sounds that he's not making. I turn around slowly, my head leaning against the wall, chin lifted, sweat collecting on my brow.

I surrender to his stare when my eyelids lift and I think he's in the midst of processing what I just said. I can't keep anything from him anymore, I can't keep thinking he's going to actually want someone like me after this. Why stay with a cheater, an adulterer, a careless addict? Why give someone like me a second chance, why waste your time and breath and life with a man who knows no bounds? Why give up the chastity he's so carefully preserved up until now to some liar, some disgusting slut who's no better than some dirty prostitute fresh off the street?

No, I get it now. All hope is lost, all dreams are shattered and all frivolous actions of mine must now acquire the harsh punishment of consequence. The harsh actualization of reality. I know what's next, for delusion isn't something I possess. I am not the one, I am not his and I will never ever be his. Our story ends here, and the only thing I can do is show him what he wants so he can close this wretched chapter.

I wait a moment, I breathe in deep, I steal one last glance into his pained eyes, and I just give up.

I start to unbutton shirt.

I'm the kind of sad now where I'm not sad at all - I'm numb. I'm empty. I'm hopeless and wrought with despondence and apathy and I believe I've been defeated by this man. He is everything to me and I am nothing to him. There's no point in explaining myself as the attempt will be fruitless and meaningless and it will only damage me more. I feel as if I've had so many fluctuations of emotions that they are just swollen and stuck now, unable to evolve into anything I can feel or comprehend. Yes, I am reverting back to my old self because that is the only way to live without being damaged. There is no other choice for me.

My fingers fumble across the buttons of my shirt one by one and as I slide my digits down my chest I watch his eyes become wide with disbelief. I part the fabric when I finish and let the shirt slip past my shoulders and down onto the floor, revealing my naked skin.

The light rustling of the cloth hitting the ground is the only sound between us, yet his face screams every emotion he's ever held back.

His eyes are overcome with sadness and with his uninjured hand he places the back of his palm onto his lips, almost physically in shock. I watch as he gives each bruise and bite-mark a few seconds time and he absorbs the severity of my distrust, unable to speak or blink or move.

I deserve this punishment, I know it, yet something inside of me is telling me to scream my excuse, my situation, my reasoning - but I don't for the single fact that he doesn't need this. He can be with someone who never hurts him, someone who wouldn't jump him like an animal, someone who wasn't an unreasonable man like myself. I am doing this for him. I'm showing him who I am, who I was just the other night so he can come to the obvious conclusion that I am no good for him.

Ah, his face is changing now. He really is beautiful. Even in the midst of anger or despair he stands as if modeled from gods themselves. So pristine, such perfection, such breathtaking features I feel lucky to have been with him for as long as I had. His pale, flawless skin, his cheeks always stained a faded red, his lips resting freshly-bitten and gorgeously shaped. I had that once. I had all of it I had it in my hands and wrapped around my arms I had that body over me and under me and pressed against me. Those achingly stunning eyes watched only me and wanted me and looked at me with this passion that I have never felt in all the years of my bleak existence.

And when he looks at me now his stare is ice-cold.

I stand there frozen in place, shackled by the frigid glare he encases me in, unable to move a muscle as I await the verdict. I see his lips move and my heart is about to burst through my chest, every thump making my ears pound with the indication that I'm still, unfortunately, very much alive.

"Get out of here."

...

No. No.

Wait.

The preparedness of the emotions I thought I could contain have not given me enough time to accept something like this. Every single thing I was holding back purges right out of me, the walls open up, the harsh thrashing of pained sentiments sent piercing right through my chest and I am no longer numb as every inch of my body begins to shake. I am no longer willing to give up, I am no longer accepting this type of ending.

"I...I can explain!" I cry out as I pick up my shirt and place it onto the shame which is my body. "Please, please I can-"

"Get out, I said. Leave."

My shaky fingers barely shift two buttons into place before I gurgle out a disgusting sob and feel my face become wet with tears.

"S-sebastian! Two minutes t-two minutes I can explain this isn't my fault I went to this client's house an-"

"NOTHING you say will change anything, Ciel. Now get out or I will force you out."

"NO! God, no listen!" I stumble over to him a crying mess and I try to grab his hand but he pushes me away and shakes his head as if he'd be tainted by my touch. I cough and whine and let out these pained yowls like he's physically harming me and I growl out my words.

"Don't DO this! Don't reject me like this I didn't m-mean to do any of this!"

He stands with his back turned and he places his head into his hands and claws at his hair. My vision is blurred by my tears and my face is hot as it twists into an ugly saddened expression. I need him I need him, I can't do this!

"Sebastian...look at me!"

He walks over to his desk and picks up the receiver to his phone, still unable to turn around and look me in the eye

"If you don't leave in two seconds I will call building security and have them remove you from the premises, Mr. Phantomhive."

"Don't call me that! I don't care! Call them! I'm staying here you have to believe me Sebastian this wasn't my fault stop doing this stop kicking me out just give me a few minutes I want to be with you I'd give up anything for you!"

The loud clash of the phone slamming back down onto his desk sends my body jerking backwards in shock. He finally turns around and walks towards me, the look in his eyes saying it all. He's completely enraged.

"You'd give up anything except your hunger for sex. Now get out, for the last time." He points to the door and I slowly back away when I hear the harsh tone of his voice. My legs stumble weakly, my chest jerks up and down as I breathe in my erratic sobbing and I shut my eyes as he walks past me and opens the door, demanding my exit.

"I can explain I can explain," the words shiver out of my lips and I shake my head when I walk up to the door and grab it, "please don't do this!"

His uninjured hand slaps onto my slumping shoulders and I get pushed forward, my two feet shuffling outside into the hallway.

"I never want to see you again" I hear him say, and I turn right back around to argue those wretched words.

"NO! NO!" the door slams in my face before I can even get one last glance of him and I immediately wrap my hand around the knob to only find that it's been locked. My other hand balls into a fist and I pound into it as my forehead leans against the cool surface of the door.

"Sebastian I'm sorry! Sebastian please...PLEASE!" I beg I cry I scream I plead I lose all of my composure and all of my restraint. I open my mouth and wail like a baby being ripped from its mother, saliva and mucus from my nose mixing in with the constant flow of tears. I bawl my eyes out like a person who's gone mad, like a person who's lost everything, like a person who is all too familiar with the agony of malaise and misery.

My head thuds against the door and I stop speaking just so I can uncontrollably gurgle out these gut-wrenching sobs. My thin body presses so deeply into the wooden partition that I hope that I seep right through it just to see him one last time, only once, that's all I want.

But I don't. I don't defy the laws of physics or surpass the constraints of reality. I stand there, barely able to keep balance, barely able to think clearly and I tire myself out to the point where I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. I don't know where I am. I don't know who I've become. My mind is blank my vision is blurred my body is hot I'm slipping into myself I'm vacant I'm devoid of the will to move I'm absolutely terrified.

I'm lost.

* * *

I replayed that moment in my head a million times over, and when I really think about it, I knew someone somewhere must have heard me weeping like a lunatic and pounding against that door. Another therapist, another patient, the receptionist...yet no one came to my side. They could hear my pained screams as I was left abandoned and unwanted yet I was left to drown in my own despair. I never knew I could feel so distraught with anguish until that very day.

...and I never knew it would be the last time I would ever see him again.

..

* * *


	18. Chapter 18

_"Winter is coming."_

_.._

* * *

Snow falls beautifully just outside the large panes of windows that surround my parent's ballroom. The soft white that etches the glass traces each individual square and creates a magnificent addition to the lavish decor that resides within.

Dozens of round tables spread out across the polished marbled floor and they are covered with snow-white cloth that glints in the light of the massive crystal chandelier that oversees the entire hall.

Golden flakes dust frosted glass centerpieces which hold a handful of white orchids, and each carefully plucked flower is arranged to overflow and spill gracefully onto the table. The silverware rests on plush, folded napkins and is accompanied by only the finest wine glasses money can buy.

This yearly dinner is something I've participated in since I was a child, always held in late fall when it becomes unbearably frigid in every aspect imaginable. I watch the designers shuffle and panic to make everything perfect, and I am only reminded of my youth when I feel the heavy weight of my father's hand plop onto my shoulder.

"How are things looking in here?" He's dressed casually, or as casual as a man of his caliber could get, with black slacks and a grey dress shirt, buttons left open at his collar, "I know you have to leave soon, but I want you to meet someone who will be joining us for our dinner tonight".

"It's seven in the morning," I smile and close my eyes to expel a sigh, "I'll be right over, father, but make it fast - I have a session in an hour".

"I know." He nods respectfully and then gives me a harsh slap on my back before walking away, "it'll be quick, good work in here by the way".

Good work, indeed. I awoke before the sun itself and ate breakfast, got into my suit, and then drove all the way down here just for this. My car had ice, the roads had snow, my body had hardly rested enough the night prior and I couldn't help but notice the unsettling pit in my stomach that something strange would happen on this very night.

I stare at the snow as it gracefully falls into the large balcony and then flatten my hand over my finely clothed abdomen. The season is so different, so solemn. The flakes collect and the clouds grow darker as they hide the warm glow of the morning sun. My gaze is hastily ripped from the scene when I turn around and head towards the sound of my father laughing, which is quite unusual for this time of day. Or any time of day, now that I think about it.

I lift my chin as I walk and I sneak small glances at the butlers and maids as they fulfill their dedicated roles. With each tap of my shoe the laughter grows louder and by the time I'm in the vicinity of the foyer I see my father joyously chuckling and a tall, dark-haired older gentleman standing by his side.

"Ciel Phantomhive, what a pleasure it is to meet you! Frightful storm we're having, isn't it? First snow of the season, how exciting!" My hand is practically ripped from me and immediately taken by this man whom I can't identify but has an obvious penchant for speaking of the weather. I tense up at the unwanted touch but my father gives me a stern, reassuring look as his associate continues to speak. "I apologize I'm in a hurry but I wanted to meet the genius son of the one and only Vincent Phantomhive!"

The pleasure is all mine,"I grin uncomfortably and listen as he introduces himself as one my father's many colleagues. I look at him and smile, showing a slight humbling of my teeth as he thankfully releases his grip, "and yes, it's quite cold out".

"You have really turned the business around in these past few months, haven't you?! Just like your father you'll excel at everything I'm sure, why, no one could believe what you turned that old Trancy winery into. Good work, young man, good work indeed!"

"Yes he's grown up to be quite the businessman, sharp as a tack and abundant in the willingness to get things done," my father pats me on the back and stands right by my side to comfort me, our height almost identical, "I don't know what got into him but one day he just set his mind to his work and now look at how successful he's become! The dinner party tonight is in his honor completely, right son?"

My smile falls into a soft frown and I place a hand on my torso and shake my head "you're embarrassing me, really father, I was only doing my job".

"Modesty - he gets that from his mother, I assure you." With a final pat I watch as my father escorts the man out of the estate and I turn my head to watch them leave.

"So long, kid! Keep warm!"

As the door opens my eyes lock onto the falling snow and I can't help but feel a slight pang in my chest. The weightless flakes become captured in a small gust of wind, my mind enraptured in the chaotic way in which they traverse their routes within the frigid air. One by one they litter the sky and I watch them, I study their movements and trace the patterns of their individual, meaningless quests.

What once fell from heaven resides gracelessly on a pile over dirtied soil and blackened pavement. It collects with all the other descendants, merging into a single entity, transfusing into a vague, monotonous form that any layman can identify. What once was a flake unlike any other ever created is now just a perversion of its former self, a gratuitous amalgamation of piles and piles of previous befallen crystals, a heaping mound of discolored shit - snow, how I utterly, wholeheartedly loathe It. A bothersome plague on everyone's house that only looks forward to the day its shoveled up, salted, or heated into nonexistence.

What once was beautiful is now stripped of individuality and riddled with disdain.

My top lip curls at the sight and I huff out a low breath, my thoughts escaping, rampant, running.

He binds me still...

...winter is coming.

* * *

I'm lying on a plush leather sofa, my body relaxed, my mind clear, my breathing slow and stable and calm as both of my hands rest placidly over my abdomen. I lightly tap the soft fabric of my black vest and let my index finger slip over the dark marbled surface of one of the buttons. My eyelids lift open as I absentmindedly flick the smooth edge, and I stare at the creator of the only sound in the room.

  
_Tick_   _tick_   _tick_  


The garishly modern clock that resides on the wall is something that I've become all too familiar with. The cold steel backing houses perfectly-positioned dots instead of numbers, and the over-sized glass hands display the obvious passing of time. My eyes focus on the smallest hand and I watch it orbit the only path it knows as another minute falls into the nothingness of the past.

"Today marks five months since I've seen him." I speak to the clock, my voice almost at a whisper despite how loud it seems in this small room.

Silence replies to my factual statement so I blink and then let my head loll to the right, where my eyes fixate on the pair of crossed legs that patiently await my elaboration. They're bare, slender and adorned with modest blue heels and I'm not sure how many hours I've spent speaking to these legs.

"Five months..." is all I can say.

My hair has grown longer in this encased block of time, if you could believe it. My dark strands fall just above my chin and I let them sweep past my ear, uncaring of them being perfect. I can't even remember the last time I took interest in how I styled my hair, and I somewhat relish in that thought.

My suit jacket is unbuttoned and the dark wool flanks the sides of my small hips, resting peacefully above the white dress shirt that resides under my vest. My legs lay flat against the long couch and my black trousers rustle slightly when I move my feet to cross my ankles. As I continue to vacantly stare at those blue shoes, I sigh and try to clear my mind, closing my eyes.

"And how does that make you feel?"

The question is spoken softly and with concern, so I groan at it and say nothing. The ticking of the clock can still be heard and the sound is almost soothing to me, calming and taming the wild thoughts I have bottled within.

"Ciel...tell me what's on your mind."

Both of my eyes lazily open and I trace the form of the woman to my side. She's quite beautiful in a completely nonsexual way. She's in her early thirties, a brunette, modest, well-spoken, intelligent. She knows everything about me and I wouldn't have it any other way. I like her.

"I'm your therapist, too, remember. You have to talk to me, that's why you pay me the big bucks."

She smiles and taps her pen on her notepad as she releases a jokingly annoyed breath. It makes me laugh softly and I just stare at her face and then roll my eyes up to the ceiling.

"Sorry, your question was such a cliché that it distracted me..." I smile and lift my hand from its place to brush the hair away from my eyes, my fingers entwining within the long strands, "it makes me feel...I'm not sure. Accomplished? A failure? A bit of both, perhaps."

"You've been doing exceptionally well for the past few months, don't you think?"

My mind races as I try to recall my first session with her and I swallow at the thought. It was about four months ago, I believe, right as summer was turning to fall. To this day when I think of the heat of that summer it makes my insides shake with unease. The pit of my stomach twists and churns with such force that I place both hands over my abdomen and hold my nerves in place. The way I acted, the way I treated others, the way I treated myself - it makes me sick. It makes me automatically frown and expel a breath through my nose.

"I was in such a state when I first hired you..." I almost say this to myself, so low and practically inaudible that it couldn't be heard if the room was not free of sound itself, "it was almost unbelievable, wasn't it?"

My eyes shamefully roll to catch hers, and she smiles cheerfully at me. I feel that it is genuine and this is one of the reasons why I've kept her for so long. She's become more than just a therapist to me and we speak as acquaintances when I'm not paying her to listen to my woes. I always have to surpass that doctor-patient boundary I know but she was recommended by my father when I was in the throes of affliction and we developed somewhat of a friendship, I suppose - one of the first in my entire life I think.

"You needed a lot of help, I agree, Ciel, but-"

"My dreams still haunt me despite my rehabilitation, you know. Everything in my life is fitting together so perfectly but my mind refuses to heal, it does the exact opposite it makes it worse it opens wounds and tears through scars and creates this new, harsher, deeper trauma. You know this morning I glared at the snow for about twenty minutes? I can turn something so beautiful into something so ugly and twisted now...I'm really good at that."

She frowns slightly and closes her eyes for a split second as she speaks.

"And what did he do in your dream this time?" She ignores the latter half of my ramblings and gets to the meat of my problem.

"The same thing he does in all the others...he leaves." I shift uncomfortably, "and you know these past few months I feel like I'm slightly insane, all dreams aside. I'll think I see his car drive past my estate, or see him in a crowd of people when I am out. Just the other day I kept looking over my shoulder at some man at the bank because I thought I could smell that scent that he never let me forget..."

I can feel the heat of distress gather around my eyes and I pinch the bridge of my nose to try and quell the urge to expel my emotions. "Why is this not going away? Why is this so hard? Why can't I fix this?!"

My mouth does the expelling for me, blurting out the pain that still resides within, and I clench my teeth as hard as I can as I place my entire hand over my eyes.

"Take a breath. Something like this isn't as easy to mend, Ciel. Of course it's normal to see the things you wish to see in everyday situations. I really hope you could move on from that, though...I told you my suggestion about possibly trying to date someone els-"

"NO!" I feel my face heat up and I can only imagine how red it is but I don't really care. My feet plop down onto the ground and I sit hunched over with my elbows on my knees, the perfect stance for hysterics. "How dare you say that!"

"Please be calm." She makes a face that a mother would while scolding her child and I click my tongue at the way it works.

"I just hate it when you ask that of me. You know all of the things I've done to make myself clean, I'm not going to taint myself with someone else's touch. Do you know how many doctors I saw, how many times I was tested for every disgusting disease under the sun? I went back again and again until they just outright denied me and told me I was sterile! I don't want anyone I don't think of that anymore and you know this you've watched me you've literally sat here and watched me become this person so don't you dare for one second think that I'll just turn into someone else."

"I would never ask that of you, it's just...you've turned your life around. You excel at everything you do, you work hard, you're a success, but..."

I watch as she looks to the side and I know she's trying to re-piece the puzzle of her next statement so that I don't get offended. She does this often, and it almost never works, so I circle my wrist and gesture for her to spit it out.

"But what?"

"I understand everything you went through, and to be honest, I never thought your feelings for him would ever linger. I thought once you worked things out you could continue to look for a stable, healthy relationship but instead you went from sinner...to saint...to, well...insane."

I narrow my eyes at the religious connotation, ignoring the other insult and bite the side of my lip, not liking her presumptions. "And just what does that mean?"

"Ciel, you won't let anyone touch you. Only your parents. You even felt uncomfortable on the first day when I patted your shoulder..."

"Yes, and?"

"And...that's not healthy. You can't live in fear of someone else's touch. You're a handsome, successful young man. The urge to sleep around now disgusts you, I get that, but you should consider maybe trying to find someone - a companion, a partner. It'll help you heal, and over time you'll forget about him."

My shoulders slam against the back of the couch and I spread my legs lazily, an arm lifting to place a finger on my temple. She watches me unfazed, as she has seen me at my worst.

"I don't want to have sex ever again. I've been fine these past five months, I don't even masturbate I don't think about being with other people the thought makes me ill and I know you're aware of that. My dick is practically useless, I've become impotent with the thought of having someone even inches near me. I don't crave that touch, I don't need that type of affirmation. I don't need sex I don't want sex. My urges have been expelled, removed, exorcised - get it through your brain."

"What if it was with Sebastian? Does  _that_  urge still linger?"

The name itself makes me weak, vulnerable. Desperate. It makes my insides flip and my heart begin to race at the mere sound of the first two syllables. His name controls the inner-workings of my body and causes me to sweat and shiver and panic and I physically squirm as I mentally explode with thoughts of him. His face, his smell, his taste. The way he moved and how his lips curled up into his cheeks when he would speak, how his muscles felt under mine and how his voice made my knees weak, every single nuance and every single touch engraved permanently into my memory as if I just felt him mere seconds ago. No. That touch is not the same as any other.

I fall onto my side and put my feet up on the couch again, wiggling into the cushions as my back turns to her. I feel so childish yet I want to hide myself from such defenseless actions. I feel susceptible to her judgment so I cover my face with both of my hands and groan loudly, writhing deeper into the sofa as I carelessly wrinkle my expensive suit.

"I can still see you, you know."

"Shut up." I bark at her and kick my feet like an annoyed animal, digging the leather of my shoes into the leather of the couch, "why would you ask me such a thing?"

"Because I want you to answer me, obviously." I can hear her stupid smile and I jerk my body, flopping my limbs as I snap my head towards her.

"You know the fucking answer."

"You know, we spoke about closure before. I feel like your addiction diminished and in its wake it left this extremely intense yearning for him. Have you thought of contacting him and maybe apologizing or talking things over?"

I make a sound like I am the most offended person in the universe and I straighten my posture once again. "Certainly not! That's...no. No, that could never happen ever. Ever! The thought itself is so moronic yeah like I would go and hurt myself more like that are you kidding me? For all I know he has a wife and kids by now!"

"Ciel, it's been five months. That's not only unrealistic - it's physically impossible."

"That's not the point. If I ever saw him...I would turn into that mess of a person I was when I first hired you. I've worked too hard to pick the pieces back up, I don't want to go through that again. Do you even remember me when you first saw me?! I hadn't eaten in weeks, I almost lost my job, my family, my mental state, everything - I almost lost everything else because I lost him, to be hurt by that man again is not something I want."

She nods and then tilts her head slightly. "Have you ever thought of what he would say if he knew the whole story?"

"He wouldn't care. One of his last words to me were 'nothing you say will change anything' so I've grown to believe that to be true."

There is a silence and I hate the way my stubbornness prevents me from moving on. I gave up yet I still pine for him, I burned my bridge but I still want to walk across it but if I try I just know I'd hurl downwards into the deep pits of despair and agony. That horrible road of loss of control, the abysmal trenches of torment that entwine and capture you in your own self-pity. That is something I would never, ever wish upon anyone - not even my worst enemies.

Except one.

"I think you might need some kind of...release." She interrupts my angered train of thought and my eyes lock on to hers, "a hobby maybe? Something that makes you happy and busy."

I look at her like she has a mental handicap and then rise to my feet, closing my eyes at her borderline-retarded suggestion. I flatten my shirt and button my jacket and compose myself, as she is the only person who has the misfortune of seeing me like this.

My fingers comb both sides of my head and I let out a tired breath.

"I already have a hobby, it's called work and I love it, so...come up with something better next time, sweetheart."

She scrunches her nose at my term of endearment and I smile at the way I anger her.

"So what, you just decided to end our session?"

"I have work," I look at her apologetically and tug on either end of my suit, "the only thing I'll ever fall in love with ever again".

"Wait. I need to show you something. Sit down."

I lift a brow at the seriousness of her voice and do as she asks, slowly sitting on the edge of the couch.

"What is it?"

"As your therapist you know I think you should move on and find someone that makes you happy, right?"

"...right" I somehow feel this impending emotion of dismay grow within me but I let her continue in the interest of curiosity or masochism, perhaps, I'm not too sure.

"But as your friend, I want to tell you that I think you should talk to him, Ciel. This is just going to eat away at you and it's no good. I know I didn't know you when you were that cynical sex-addict but I know you now and I know that you deserve better than this."

"I reap what I sow, these are the consequences of my mistakes, I've come to terms with it..." my eyes fall to the side and I lick my lips, "besides, it's been too long. I'm sure he has a woman now, I wouldn't want to cause a rift in his social life".

"He doesn't."

My gaze immediately locks onto her and I watch her as she pulls out a piece of paper from her notebook. It makes me nervous and I watch her unfold it without removing her eyes from me.

"What the hell are you doing?" I feel as if she's presented me with a dagger or a gun or any other type of weapon that could mar my skin or propel through my unsuspecting flesh. I jerk away from the paper when she extends her arm and tries to hand it to me. "What is that why are you giving that to me - tell me what it is first".

"It's an article I printed the other day that I thought you might find interesting..." she holds it firmly between two fingers and waves it around as if trying to entice me, "go on, read it".

I look at the paper as if it were poison and cross my arms. "No, you read it to me".

"Honestly, Ciel." She sighs in defeat and takes the article away from me, much to my relief. Straightening the sheet in front her face she clears her throat and begins to read intentionally slow, "back in 1922 the Kensington Orphanage was first opened under th-"

"Give me that." I snatch the page from her as I know she's deliberately drawing out the main event to torture me. The sheet snaps in mid-air and I stand to my feet as my eyes frantically scan the document.

Almost instantaneously I catch the name 'Sebastian Michaelis' and I feel my heart begin thump erratically. I feel as if I'm suddenly all alone in this room and as my breathing increases my hand begins to shake. My vision feels blurry so I open and close my eyes and my mouth suddenly feels dry so I swallow. I can feel my emotions start to slowly crawl out of my throat and I clench my teeth as I read, my face being overwhelmed with heat.

There's something about an orphanage, something about counseling children, volunteer work, therapy, charity, something, something else, something after that I don't know because by this point my eyes are merely following the block of text to the very end because my peripheral vision catches the sight of a large box at the bottom of the page.

I don't even read it. I don't care. My eyes fall down to the very last line and then I see it – I see him.

I see his face for the first time in five months.

I bite both of my lips as I inspect the photo. It's of him, just his face, just so you know who the article was referencing, just so you know how this man is not only amazing and smart and charitable and selfless but yes, he's also the most gorgeous, painfully handsome creature to ever walk this god-forsaken, unforgiving earth.

My teeth clench harder onto my mouth and my nostrils flair as I take in every detail of his face. His hair is the same, those medium-length bangs with his all-business bullshit in the back. His perfect jaw, his expressive eyebrows that look like he's giving a fuck about everything you say, his fucking eyes. His eyes are turned away from the camera and I feel like I would give anything to see them staring right back at me. He has those tortoise-shell reading glasses on, perched beautifully on his nose, making him look even smarter than he is if it's even possible. His lips, god, it physically pains me to see them. It pains me to see all of this, it pains me to lay my eyes on this man.

I always picture him in my mind, every day, every night, no matter when the sun sets or rises or ceases to show itself. We're enveloped in snow now yet my thoughts are filled with the suffocating heat of that summer, the heat of his skin and breath and touch. I feel like when I think of him I make him this godly creature that has been graced with so much perfection that humanity escapes him completely. Yet my eyes magnetize to the reality of his features and I realize that my memories do no justice to the truths of his presence. He's so much more than I could ever imagine, he's so much better than I am, he's too good for some lowly scum such as myself, everything he did he did correctly. I deserved everything I got.

"In the article...they ask if he has kids of his own and he only answers by saying that no he's single…I thought you might…" she trails off when she acknowledges my expression and then shifts in her seat, "Ciel…are you alright?"

"I have to go, the dinner is tonight."

"Wait, are we not going to talk about this?"

I rip the article once, twice, and repeat the action over and over as I stare right at her. The tiny bits of paper mimic the snow that falls just outside the window when they trickle down onto the floor, and I fan my fingers out when I discard every last remnant of that face.

"I want nothing to do with him anymore, he ruined me. Don't mention him again."

My therapist's eyes slide down to the littered floor and it's the last I see of her before I turn around and make my exit, the photo of the man who changed my life being engraved unwillingly into my memory.

* * *

"Mr. Phantomhive, sir...the caterers have arrived."

I'm sitting on an over-sized ornate chair that rests behind the desk of my father's office. My parent's are away doing god knows what and I am left to oversee all the preparations for tonight's affair. My drive home from my therapist's office was short, yet oh so long as I was haunted by only his image. The distraction of work is truly a blessing on days like today.

I sigh as my back presses into the plush black velvet and cross my legs as I look at the mess of a maid before me.

"Please, call me Ciel," my eyes check her out as my chin lifts and I fold my hands gracefully in my lap, "there's no need for formalities with me".

"Of...of course...Ciel...sir..." she mumbles her last word and I smile at her to try and calm her nerves. She catches the sincerity in my face and immediately turns red, kneading the front of her apron with her small hands.

"Thank you, can you please escort them here so I can speak to them for a minute before they start setting up? I don't want them interfering with our actual chefs."

"Yes! Right away!"

I watch as she shuffles out of the enormous office and I sigh as I open one of the large drawers of the massive wooden desk before me. A small smile curls my lips when I see a single crystal glass wrapped in red satin. I pick it up by the exposed stem and let the expensive fabric unravel and fall gracefully away from it's curved body.

"Hmm..." I hum as I carefully place it on the desk and reach back in only to uncover the treasure of one of my father's secret stashes of wine. It's a French red Burgundy from 1981 and as I pull the half-empty bottle out I shake my head at the way he's kept it.

"You own the most famous winery in the country, father, yet you keep this beauty in a desk, re-corked, sloppily placed," I smile as I twist and pop the cork, closing my eyes as I smell the rim of the bottle. "Shame shame".

I inhale and breathe out, I revel, I deconstruct the aromas and hum at their potency.

"A real shame." My eyes open and I pour the dark red into the waiting glass. The wine swishes and crashes against the curved bottom until it is calmed when filled halfway, the soft motion of the liquid finally settling in place.

I set the bottle down and eye the rich colors of the spirit as I stand on my feet and remove my suit jacket. The heavy wool slips from my shoulders and I lick my lips as I drape the coat behind the carved back of the enormous chair. There is a slight shuffling just outside the door, but I ignore it as I sit back down and undo the cufflinks of my white dress shirt.

I wear these for my father, my mother, my name, yet when I see the engraved silver I can't help but remember the time when they were returned to me by him. Almost immediately the vision of his current photo flashes into my thoughts, my mind riddled with every specific detail. I fumble when I remove the second cufflink and it plops down onto the floor, muffled by the plush rug below.

Opening and closing my eyes I feel my hands begin to shake slightly and I leave the fallen item in the interest of trying to calm my sudden burst of nerves.

"Don't do this, don't do this..." I whisper to myself and place both of my elbows on the table, my fingers now digging into my hair as my palms cover my eyes, "not now, Ciel".

The opened sleeves of my dress shirt cause the cloth to fall down the slender lengths of my arms, and I tug on my hair as I try to stabilize my breath as well as my thoughts. It is not infrequent that I get flashes of his form or smell or face, and at one point it was so bad that it almost drove me to insanity. I've learned to curb this useless pining, yet the remnants of what I assume to be heartache unfortunately remain, much to my disdain.

I release a deep sigh and this feeling of calm washes over me. My eyes shift to the dark glass of wine and I push all thoughts of him aside as I've done a million times before. Sometimes it takes a second, sometimes a minute, sometimes an entire day, but I do it because if I don't I will let it eat away at me. I will let it ruin my life.

..

Right as I hear a knock on the door I lean back in my chair and slip the stem of the wine glass between two pairs of fingers. I let the face of my ex-therapist haunt me one last time and then readily compose myself.

"Come in." I say smoothly and cross my legs, my chin now lifted.

I almost roll my eyes when I watch the caterer enter, knowing exactly who he is.

"Damn. I was expecting your dad, not you," He's tall, well-built, strong arms, an equally strong jaw. His short hair is brown as are his eyes and he has slightly tan skin, most likely from his profession "you look different".

I say nothing as his deep voice echoes within the room and I lift the wine to my lips and take a sip, my eyelashes falling when I taste that perfection on my tongue.

The glass makes a light thunk against the desk as I set it down when I suddenly hear the door shut. I swallow immediately after and the sound of the wine within my throat is a bit louder than usual.

Without looking at him I try to bask in the beauty of the flavor in my mouth until I suddenly see his shadow creeping up towards my comfort zone.

"One more step and you'll regret it." My eyelids lift and I take in his black shoes, his dark jeans, and his wide shoulders that are covered with a heavy brown coat, dusted with snow. The shape of his body is all too familiar to me, and I scoff at him when he freezes mid-step.

"Oh come on Ciel, you know every year I cater not only to your family, but to you as well." I can almost feel him undressing me with his eyes and I finally lift my chin higher to meet his blatant stare when the coat he wears suddenly rustles onto the ground. "I wasn't expecting to see you so soon, but I can give you a little taste in here if you want".

He bends down and places each of his rough hands on the armrests of my chair, trapping me between the muscles of his arms and making my stomach churn with unease.

"You look smaller." He eyes the black vest that tightly hugs my torso and then grunts like some alpha-male, "yeah, I can definitely tell from this angle, your waist is so tiny - like a woman".

"Well, some of us are just cursed with small endowments," I smile as my eyes flicker downward towards his crotch, only for a split second as I try to calmly brush him off, "but you know all about that already don't you?"

It's true, unfortunately, that every year around this time I would let this man have his way with me. Time and time again the old me would get a special meal served only by his snapping hips, and it would always account for the beginning of winter.

"Look I have food to prepare, I'd really cut the insults if I were you."

"If you don't get your hands off of my father's chair I will maim you with your own meat slicer."

He glares at me as he removes his grip on the chair and then crosses his arms, straightening his back and showing me the small mound in his jeans. I pick the wine glass up and take another sip, uncaring of his presence, uncaring of his erection, yet slowly growing more anxious by the second.

"So what the fuck did you call me in here for if you don't want to get laid?"

The robust flavor that swirls onto my palate makes me relax into a momentary euphoria so I ignore him a bit more before placing my glass back down.

"My father wanted me to inform you that you and your staff are to wear all black tonight. The maids, the butlers, the chefs and the waiters must remain only in this color for the sake of the night, understood?"

"And you?" He grunts out like an annoyed dog, "can I wear you tonight?"

There is a soft pause before I speak but it's not of hesitation, more annoyance. I can't begin to express the amount of times a week I get hit on by old flings, more recent flings, or new men all together. Sometimes I am sickened with myself for who I used to be, but when they start to insist I feel conflicted. Most men understand when I tell them no, some require a more in-depth explanation to which I add 'I am married to my work, and I have no time'. But on a very rare occasion, such as this man, I know the issue will not be dropped so easily.

"I guess you can say I'm a religious man now," I stare right at the intensity in his face as I tell my lie, "so the only thing you'll be wearing tonight is black - as required."

"Religious? HA! But you're more of a slut than my wife, and I've known that bitch way longer than I've known you."

"Don't be mistaken you snake." I hiss out, my anger building. "To have the nerve to say that you know who I am is a joke in itself. Now remove yourself from my office or I will do it for you."

"But fuck I miss that pretty, pissed-off face of yours." He lifts his hand and I am caught completely off-guard when he lightly touches the side of my face with a curved index finger.

In a split second my heart knots, my stomach flips and my face instantaneously jerks away. No, no another man's touch I can't believe it happened, I can't believe I let myself become this vulnerable, this soiled.

My face twists in disgust and I lift my right leg and kick him square in the dick, knocking him right onto his back as his large body slams against the floor, his vagrant mouth now screaming in pain.

"Don't you EVER lay your fucking hands on me ever again! I will kill you I will fucking kill you do you got that?!" I frantically remove myself from my seat and I hear the door to my office burst open but I don't care I just act on instinct he dirtied me with his touch he ruined my face my purity my everything that I've worked so hard to preserve so the only thing I can even fathom doing is grabbing my cup of wine and hurling it right at him.

"Ciel, sir, please stop!" The maid comes running right for me as my hand extends back and without thinking I point at her with the glass, splashing her face with the remnants of my drink.

"Don't touch me! No one touch me - get away!"

"What is going ON here?  _CIEL."_  


I feel like the privilege of vision barely graces me and I can see clearly when the sound of my father's voice booms within the small space. I watch him as he runs right towards me and immediately snatches the wine glass out of my hand and places it on the table. He grabs my shoulder and removes me a few feet from the man writhing on the floor and the maid soaked in wine more expensive than her yearly salary.

"Please, go clean up, I sincerely apologize, I'll make this up to you." His voice is calm and somewhat sweet as he speaks to the soiled girl and he nods at her, relieving her of her duties. The clicking of her heels against the polished marble floors slowly fades until she shuts the door and that is the moment when panic and anxiety slowly start to overcome me.

"And you, why are you on the floor?" He questions the caterer and I move closer to my father, speechless, and press my forehead into his shoulder, wanting nothing more than to disappear. He removes his grip on my arm and then stands directly in front of me, creating a barrier between me and the object of my outburst.

"Your fucking faggot of a son kicked me in my balls just because I touched his face!"

My father is only an inch or two taller than me, he is thin, but broader in build. I can feel him about to lose control himself so I grab the fine cloth of his dress shirt as my forehead digs into the back of his shoulders. My hair is mussed as it presses into him and I feel like a child, like a useless adolescent who is completely defenseless. But I am. That's exactly who I am. Right now my mind has escaped me and I am in a panicked, hopeless state. I try to speak but I can't, I try to see but I don't, I try to move but I won't. I'm stuck. I'm anxious and scared and enraged all at once but I'm stuck. I'm stuck. I'm  _stuck._  


"I want you and your staff off of my property this instant." His voice is low and rattles deep within his throat as he commands the man to get to his feet as I shut my eyes as tight as possible. "If you and the lowly, unprofessional company you keep are not off of this estate in five minutes I will make sure you never cater to anyone else - ever again."

I can hear the man grab at the wall and finally rise, but I only know this because my father shifts his body and follows his every move. I feel like they're staring each other down and it makes me flinch when I hear the sudden shuffling of feet.

"Your son is a whore and a slut and he'll never amount to anything else. Everyone knows he'll spread his legs for anyone."

"At least my son possesses some kind of shred of decency, at least he is honest with himself - unlike you. Someone of your nature could never comprehend such simplistic emotions." I'm ripped from the protection of his shoulders as he approaches the man and walks right towards him, "yet you're so naive in thinking that we don't have surveillance around our entire domain. For years our guards had informed me of your little blasphemous rendezvous with Ciel but I chose to remain quiet. And now I can only thank you as the burden will be lifted when we inform your staff, your boss, your family - and your lecherous wife as well."

"N-no, no, wait wait...Vincent, sir, I didn't mean t-"

"If I ever see you anywhere near Ciel or the rest of my family or employees ever again you will regret it more than the day you were born. Now get out _."_  


My father's voice is calm as he instructs the now frantic ex-fling of mine. There is shuffling, stumbling, loss of composure and pride until I finally hear the door open and then slam shut. Immediately I bring both hands to my face and just breathe into them as I await the onslaught of a lecture and the comedown of my panic attack.

"I've always despised their food anyway."

I'm stricken with slight confusion at the remark and I knit my brows as I finally open my eyes and look towards him. I feel less frantic now, less panicked, less foolish and yet more embarrassed than I've been since the day my own father found me wasting away in the bathroom of my manor five months ago.

"You've worked so hard, Ciel, you're not the man you were before." His face is stern and caring like a worried parent, and he walks up to me and squeezes my arm, having no ill-effects, "I assure you your mother is more worried than I will ever be, but it is only because she's not aware of how deep you fell. If you need to talk to us or if you need me to hire another therapist do not hesitate to ask - anything at all, I will make it happen, understood?"

I swallow at his words and slowly nod as my head still hangs in slight shame. "I don't do that anymore, I don't use my body like that anymore, I don't...do anything..."

I'm not even sure why I chose those specific set of words, but the way that asshole just spoke of me made me want to defend myself, as late as it may be.

"I'm aware, Ciel," he removes his hand from my arm and smiles slightly, "you're a better person now. Your work life is so successful, I can only hope that your personal life catches up to you."

I say nothing as he turns around and I watch as he walks towards the door, wrapping his fingers around the brass knob and pausing for a second before speaking to me one last time, his back turned.

"Go to another session today if you must, there's still time before we begin. Pull yourself together. Try to find the core of your problem, son, and I assure you - everything will get better."

After he exits, the lock clicks into place and I release an exasperated breath. The core of my problem. What IS my problem?

I try to process the events that just happened and I have to admit it has never been this bad. Granted all the other men who've made a move on me for the past few months have never touched me, so this particular scenario has differed vastly and only for the worst.

The core...is me, I think, no I'm certain. I'm the problem. But If I'm my problem, then what is my solution Who is my solution? My heart aches because I already know the answer to that, yet it's almost impossible for me to come to terms with it. If I go on like this, though, I'll be admitted to a psychiatric ward. I need to man up, I need to face him and me and everything in between.

I don't want to call my therapist because I know she'll just instruct me to seek 'closure' and to try and 'talk it out' but to be honest if I ever laid eyes on that German ever again I guarantee you the last thing I would want to do is calmly talk anything out. I don't want to talk I want to scream, I want to slam  _him_  against a wall for a change and force him to hear everything that happened, I want him to feel me feeling him, breathing him in, showing him how desperate he's made me without him. I want him to know that the demons inside me have eaten away at me every single day for the past five months because he left and I need him to fill me with his presence and even me out, make me normal, restore homeostasis. I want him to realize that I'm not some pompous, promiscuous slut who's given his heart to every man he crosses.

Only his, fuck.

That son of a bitch, I will get him, I've made up my mind.

I will find him.

* * *

"Ciel, wake up, love. It's four in the afternoon!"

It's apparently four in the afternoon and I'm lying in my old room, on my old bed, on my back, with only my pants and shoes on. The sound of my mother's voice shakes me awake and I jolt at my surroundings when I realize I'm not at home, but rather still in the vast, overly-luxurious confines of their estate.

My eyes focus on the piles of black pillows and sheets below me and I squint at the amount of light that seeps from the enormous balcony just to my right. The rays have seemingly peeked through the dark clouds and I stare lazily at the lavish crimson curtains that frame the ornate panels of the French windows.

My mother knocks on the door and my head slumps to the left, to the grotesquely enormous entrance of the room, almost thirty feet away. I watch as the gargantuan carved door opens slightly and I groan for her to come in.

"Ciel, baby, what on earth are you doing sleeping you had me so worried!"

My mother is...something else. As she frantically paces towards me in her long gown I immediately smile and watch her tiny frame shuffle in my direction. Her blonde hair is brilliant and beautiful, and her face beams with excitement when she sees the expression I make.

She almost rips my arms right from their sockets when she grabs both of my hands and pulls me up to my feet, her petite form a complete deception when her strength can kill a hundred men.

"Ah, I'm so excited seeing you in your old room! Did you notice how we hung photos of you everywhere?!"

"Ngh, shit..mm-hmm." I groan and stumble, leaning my head back tiredly, "with all the boarding schools you put me in I was barely in here anyway, mom, so you've succeeded in turning this into a sick gallery for your son".

"Oh shut your mouth." She snaps and lets go of my hands to take a step back and take in the sight of my unclothed chest. I can almost feel her worry about to take me hostage.

"You can see your ribs you're so thin, don't you know how to feed yourself? Look at you, your hips are smaller than mine, oh my and your hair - your hair is a mess!"

I'm taller than her, and bigger than her, I'm a man and she's a woman and no matter her comparison I know I can't look that bad. With a quick roll of my eyes I look over the dark fabric of the plush bedding and finally locate my dress shirt, picking it up with haste.

After I had my epiphany I came to my old room to try and think of the best way to go about finding the man who stole every single piece of me. I needed a plan and I needed it soon. Along with the previous tiff with the caterer my thoughts ran so wild that it seems I grew tired and found sanctity within the warm comfort of my immense bed.

Each of my thin arms slide into the fine cloth of my shirt and I sigh as I watch my mom talk about tonight's affair. She seems excited and overjoyed, and I can't help but frown as I fasten the final button to my collar.

"Mom - what time do I have to speak?" I interrupt her and she glares right at me, the daggers honing in towards my chest with precision.

"Oh no. No, no, no, you're not going anywhere, Ciel."

"A couple of hours before midnight should suffice, right? I have somewhere urgent to be but I guarantee you I'll be back before I have to make any kind of appearance."

Her mouth falls open in shock and her eyes dart to my hands as I pick up my vest and wrap it around my waist, uncaring of her reprimanding tone or stance.

"WHAT?! But this is our big night you have to be here you can't just leave what's so important that you have to leave?!"

"The rest of my life." I brush my svelte waist and then lean over to place a kiss on her perplexed cheek, "I'll see you tonight. Don't worry about a thing."

I have to see him today, I have to find him today and feel him today, there's no question about it. My first stop will be his office, I know I can make it if I hurry it will only take an hour - I have to make it, I have to make this right. His office, and if he's not there then his home, his gym, his grocery store, his library I will look wherever I can, I don't even care how insane my thought process has become because it's been eating away at me every single day to the point of psychosis and I deserve better than this life. My decision has finally been made.

I race out of the door and into the hallway, my shoes stomping against the rich mahogany floors with every frantic step. When I reach the edge of the elegant imperial staircase I pause for only a split second when I hear her call my first, middle and last name - 'Ciel  _Fucking_  Phantomhive'.

Needless to say, everyone has always known I get my temper from my mother.

* * *

"Um...Doctor Michaelis...are you paying attention?"

My patient is before me, seated comfortably in his chair when he distracts my attention from the notepad on my lap. It's around four in the afternoon and this second-to-last session of the day is causing me to become a bit anxious. My fingers slide down the slender pen I hold and my eyes roll over the frames of my glasses to look over at him.

"Yes, of course. I apologize," my smile is soft and encouraging, "please continue".

I apologize, but I'm not sorry. He continues, but I don't listen. It's always at the end of the day that I'm itching to get out, and there's only one reason why.

Ciel Phantomhive.

They're the only words my fingers know how to trace and I can count a total number of four notepads that are filled solely with that name. To analyze my own actions, I believe I write his name so often because it makes him tangible and real. It makes me believe that he's going to walk right into my life again, that I'll get to see him at least once again.

I miss him so much.

"So I told my wife that we could cut the sex down to five times a week and she was so happy!"

"How nice..." I almost whisper.

I tend to dress all in black when I see this particular patient, because he is the only other sex-addict I've worked with besides Ciel. I feel as if I mourn his loss whenever we speak, and I get how crazy that sounds. This man doesn't remind me of him at all, though. This man is big and muscular, bald and has a wife and kids. Ciel was much smaller, with class, intelligence...looks. He really did have looks...he was quite radiant at times, beautiful even.

Every day I look at the place on the wall where he last stood and every day for five months straight I've struggled with the events that took place.

I can still hear his cries as he scratched against my door and trust me I was a mess when I first heard it as well. The way he whined made me tear my hair out and the way he sobbed made me want to rip my ears right from my head. I felt helpless and angry and so so horrible. I was hurt so bad by what he showed me and I acted out purely on instinct and to this day I regret treating him like I did. I regret treating him so coldly, but I don't regret my final decision. It's so disconcerting.

Ciel if you only knew what you do to me, I always think this to myself, I always close my eyes and try to remember him and my mind goes completely wild. I think of him while I work, while I eat and sleep and even when I can't remember dreaming of him there is evidence that I did right when I wake up. That hunger for him, that yearning - I've never felt this way about another. My appetite only increases when my dreams are so vivid that I can practically feel his warmth all over me. I've become an animal in my own eyes and I would feel shame for these uncontrollable urges but I don't. I don't feel guilty because I love him with everything I have.

"Hey! You know I saw you in the paper a couple of days ago? You did all that charity work for that orphanage didn't you? I told my wife 'that's him that's my therapist'!"

I smile just as my heart begins to ache and I force a cheerful expression, nodding my head in response. Oh, how shameful I am. If only those poor children knew that they were being used for an easy distraction, if only those children knew I was not the man I seemed to be, because I've become a monster.

Throughout these long months I've become listless and desperate. I've stooped so low that I've caught myself driving all the way down to his estate just to steal a glimpse of my ex-patient. I never saw him come out, though, and it worried me so much that I had to distract my paranoid thoughts with something less important.

"Well, it's about four now so I think I gotta get going. You seem a bit down lately, doc - you should really cheer up, always dressing like you're going to a funeral, you worry me!"

He laughs and stands up, bending down to give me a brutal slap on my shoulder that almost knocks me to the floor.

"Lookin' a bit thin too haha! Eat up, man you'll need to bulk up to attract all the ladies you know!" His neck cranes back as he laughs loudly and all I can do is sit there and smile at him, my pen-clad hand raising to wave him off.

"I'm fine I assure you. So long, I'll see you next week - be careful out there with all that snow."

I sigh as I watch him leave and see the door shut into place. I stare at that door more often than any other space in this office because we...did a lot there. I can feel my face heat up as I try to shake the vision of him and I, and the heat spreads all the way down my throat because it's just that potent. I miss being with him, I miss kissing him, feeling his lips, tasting his mouth. Ah...god. It was true bliss.

Not only has my mind been plagued with questions that I've never asked myself, but my body has changed as well. I've become starved without him around and I feel out of control with thoughts that I've never had before. Thinking of his face makes me want to smile but thinking of his body or his skin turns me into something else completely.

Sometimes I feel as if I've grown to be an addict myself as I favor the company of my hand each and every night ever since I got over the anger of the incident. It's the complete opposite of the man I used to be and it bothers me so much that I fell in love with someone who didn't even care enough about me to refrain from promiscuity. It hurts me physically, it tires me and makes me sad and uneasy. I know I'm a virgin but to be honest I wouldn't have lasted long with him, I know this for a fact. He could have just waited. Why didn't he wait?

When I think of Ciel Phantomhive I always immediately want to hold him and kiss him and be there for him because in my eyes he was just so... dysfunctionally perfect. He was beautiful to me, he made me feel for the first time and I loved that. On the other hand, right after having thoughts that make me smile, I always picture him doing unspeakable things with other men and it infuriates me. It makes me sick. It makes me want to hunt those men and capture Ciel to have him solely for myself. I become so irrational that I've also had fantasies of what I would do to someone if I ever caught them bruising Ciel's body like that. I don't like thinking about that, though.

I've stayed up late countless nights just replaying his actions that I don't even know about. Did he beg them for it, did he seduce them? Did they touch him, did they kiss him - did  _he_  kiss  _them?_  Did he smile...did he laugh...was he happy? Did they get nervous when they touched him like I did? Did they feel their hearts beat out of control as mine would? Did they treat him well, does he matter to this group of men? Do they love him?

Even though these thoughts are now old they still burden me as much as they did the day I let him go.

I slowly lower my forehead onto my desk and let my hair fall out of place as I softly growl out the pain I feel. I want to go outside where it's cold, I want to go home, this office is torture.

I don't like feeling so down, I want to be happy so badly. I have to back the choice I made because the choice I made was the right one. I always have to remember that nothing can change this, nothing can make it better, nothing can take it back. Nothing can fix this but time. I'm not sure how many more months it will take me, but I suppose I will end up with someone sooner or later. I'll have to give myself for the first time to someone else now because he just couldn't wait for me. He couldn't wait or I wasn't worth it - either one, the end result is the same - he's gone forever.

As I stare at the fake wood of my desk I let my head roll to the side and rest my cheek right next to the edge of my leather planner. I sigh heavily because I have one last appointment and all I want to do is go home and sleep.

My eyes slide over the perfect script that was written by the receptionist and I sit up straight to compose myself for the next session. It's another new patient that I haven't had the pleasure of meeting, and I can only hope that he will make good use of my counseling.

_Alois Trancy._

I wonder what troubles him.

..

* * *


	19. Chapter 19

_"...you thief..."_

* * *

Alois Trancy.

Right as I read the name of my new patient I hear two light taps on the door to my office. It forces me to straighten up and I adjust the glasses on my face and push my hair behind my ears to look somewhat presentable. My eyes lock onto the small notebook that has Ciel's name written all over it and I clear my throat as I flip the page onto a fresh sheet.

"Come in." My voice is calm but I must admit whenever I meet a new patient I become a bit nervous because I know nothing about them. Are they stable, do they want counseling, do they need help - were they forced to be here or was it their choice?

The door clicks as it opens and I stand up to greet the man, my right hand lifted in a polite wave.

Upon first impression, I deduce that he is a very...outwardly spoken individual. He first sticks his head out, his blonde hair falling carelessly around his face as the smile he wears quickly transforms into a wide grin. He almost skips into the office and holds the knob with both hands as he presses his back against the door to close it.

"Oh woooow…" He speaks as I notice his tailored white suit and thin purple tie "they were right".

"H-hello there, I'm-"

"Michaelis!" My gesture of a greeting plops down to my side when he interrupts me with my own name and I sit back down on my over-sized chair. He flips his hair with one hand and slowly begins to make his way over to me, almost prowling in my direction. It makes me nervous so I release a small laugh to lighten the mood and calm my feeling of unease.

"Yes, I'm Doctor Michaelis, but you can just call me S-"

"My, my  _myyy_ , Doc-tor Mi-cha-e- _lis_. That photograph in the paper just does not do you any justice does it?"

We finally make eye contact and his large blue eyes seem not all there, tired, glassy. His face is slightly sunken in and I immediately start to notice the way he moves and the way he speaks and walks. He seems intoxicated or under the influence of some kind drug that I can't quite pinpoint. I swallow when my thoughts collect and realize that he has finally made his way over to the edge of my desk, placeing his palms on the wooden surface as he leans forward.

"You are so, so fucking... _mmm_ , you're sexy you know that? I have like three other therapists, psychologists, psychiatrists but a friend of mine just snipped out your hot little photo and was like Michaelis this Michaelis that so I thought 'why not' and looked you up!" He eyes me up and down, "I knew you'd be more of a man in person".

That first line makes me queasy but the way he says the rest makes me desperately clear the lump in my throat. Snipped a photo? Was that the only reason he set an appointment?

"Um...please sit down and keep this professional, Mr. Trancy."

His smile seems to widen and he lifts his brows as he peers over the edge of my desk. He gives me the once-over and eyes me as if I'm his next meal, heightening my discomfort. The feeling I have is so unsettling that I cross my arms over my lap and scoot my chair in, the sound of bubbling laughter now making its way from my patient's throat.

"You are so...what's the word? Adorable, Dr. Michaelis. Your mannerisms are so cute, so...guarded," he decides to follow my advice and plops down onto the chair across from me, "you said you were single in your little interview, right? Forgive me, I didn't read it I just snatched your photo up and barely even cared about the rest. Can you even blame me?"

This entire situation is unraveling so fast that I'm half stunned and half confused. Did he really only seek my counseling because of the photo he saw in that article? Why go out of your way to do something so frivolous?

"I don't think my relationship status matters, Mr. Trancy. We're here to talk about you. Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself – what troubles you, why did you feel the need for yet another therapist?"

"Well I wouldn't really say I felt the need for another – I just thought you were dashing, really, and I kind of wanted to, you know…get to know you." He giggles in the most flamboyant fashion possible, his hand flailing about as he speaks.

I watch as he licks his lips for the hundredth time and his explanation is so unsettling that I am thinking about kicking him right out of my office.

"If you are not here for therapy – I suggest you leave." I smile slightly as to not upset him but after I do he instantly widens his eyes and lets his mouth fall open.

"Holy  _shit_ , your smile. Wow, you made my heart stop there, Michaelis. How on earth can someone be so fucking handsome?!" I watch as he stares at my chest for some reason and he calmly crosses his legs. "Look, I'm paying you for an hour of your time – and I will do anything you ask as long as I get to stay here and look at your immaculate body. I seek your services, so - counsel me."

My eyes blink at the statement and I try so hard to ignore it. I grab the notepad that rests on my desk and open it, the crinkle of a fresh page relieving me from momentary distress.

Picking up the pen, my hand begins to automatically scribble onto the notepad and I nervously begin to write his name to calm me. The ball pointed tip drags across the white paper and as the curve of the 'C' etches onto it I narrow my eyes and finish the rest of the name. I look down at the pad and the mere sight of the script makes me feel better even in this situation. Ciel has in turn become my own therapy, and all of my nerves begin to even out as I continue to write the name once again.

"Hey, are you listening? What are you writing? Are you writing something bad about me? Is it that you want to sleep with me maybe? That can definitely be arranged, I can always pay for my sessions with a good fuck."

I look up at him and then cease my scribbling, resting the slender pen between the metal spirals that keep the pages together.

"I apologize, it was just a note to myself..." the tip of my index finger swipes over to a fresh page as I desperately ignore his offer for sex, "look, Mr. Trancy – please tell me what troubles you and leave me out of this. I can't be wasting time, I want to help you so let me help you - this isn't about me."

"FIIINE. God you know, where to begin where to begin hmmm…" he looks up to the ceiling as if pondering and rolls his large eyes back to me, incessantly staring, "well, I'm a sex-addict, have you ever dealt with anyone like that?"

I swallow and slowly nod. "I...have, yes".

"Perfect!" He smiles, "I have to say, I'm also addicted to a lot of other things. Sex, drugs, money, fame, glamour…dick. I  _love_  dick, Michaelis, I don't think you could possibly understand how much I love dick."

His revolting nature is beginning to seep right out of him and I try so hard not to lift my lip in disgust. His demeanor, his dress, his speech - he seems like a wealthy spoiled brat. Someone who doesn't work for his money. I don't ever judge someone based on their downfalls but there is just something about this man that truly makes me want to stay away from him. I feel as if he can't be helped, as if he is playing with me, wasting my time. I feel extremely uncertain about this individual and it makes me shift uncomfortably in my chair. It makes me swallow all of my apprehensions.

"Has…there been anything plaguing you lately? What about your addictions - do you believe there has been an instant in time in which you've hit rock bottom?" I try to speed things along and get to the meat of whatever it is that is troubling him. I'll see to it that this is our final session after he leaves for the day, but in the meantime the least I can do is hear him out for the remainder of our session.

He answers me with a smile and squints his eyes as he thinks. They suddenly burst open and he seems cheery and excited as his pale fingers curl around the armrests of the chair.

"OH! Yeah okay I mean there was this one really crazy night…believe you me I've done some fucked up shit in the past – but this one night was just…really something else, Michaelis. It was life-changing. It was the beginning of the end of my life."

"...Oh?" I pick up the pen once again and ready myself just in case I feel the need to scribble and calm my anxieties.

"Yeah…it was about hmm, three months ago? No wait, maybe four…five even, hell, I forgot I was just so doped up back then you know…"

"That's okay. Go on."

This seemingly evil grin makes the sides of his lips curl up into his recessed cheeks as he recalls the memory. His blonde hair looks unwashed yet combed as it is pushed back behind his right ear with his left index finger. He's still looking up as he speaks, and he hums a bit menacingly at the start of his sentence.

"Mm~, yeah. It was in the middle of summer, actually. I remember it because it was hot. Sweltering hot. Do you remember how hot it was this past summer?"

My mind flashes with the heat of those long days when I first started working here, with the face of my patient and the fire that was between us whenever we were brought together. Of course I remember. I can't seem to forget it, in fact, not a day goes by where I don't constantly think about it.

"I do." I almost whisper out my reply and nod my head once.

"Well, see – my father, he was in the wine business back then. We had this huge mansion up near-"

I cough unwillingly at the simple statement and the pen that my fingers once held falls from my grip and clatters down onto the desk. The coincidence of all of this is so surreal. A rich sex-addict who is in the wine business? There's no way he could know Ciel, right? What if they're friends? Perhaps I can ask him how he's doing? I would love to know…I hope he's okay. I really want to know now. Would it be unprofessional to ask?

"Uh, anyway…so we had a huge mansion and you know basically my father bought out this shitty winery, bought the poor sons-of-bitches who worked on the vineyard too and we were rolling in dough. My whole life just consisted of parties back then, it was amazing. All except this one family who wanted to run us right out of the business."

"A family?" I ask, only half paying attention because all I want to do is blurt out my question. I just want to know if Ciel is safe, or if he's happy.

"Yeah, they own the most profitable fucking winery in the entire country, I don't know if you've heard of them – Phantomhive wines? You must have seen their bottles somewhere, they have this elaborate insignia, this stupid crest on all of their labels…"

Phantomhive. Phantomhive. Flashes of the crest on Ciel's cufflinks race through my mind and instead of coughing this time – I choke.

* * *

" _Ciel Phantomhive you get your ass back in the house RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"_  


"Can't, mother…" my voice speaks between heavy breaths as I've finally ran down to the back lot and reached my vehicle. Once the valet attendants see me they scramble for my keys and I'm trying to speak to my mom on the phone and reassure her that I will be back before tonight's affair.

"I'm just going to be a couple of hours, promise. Have to go now – love you."

I hear a shrill yelp of offense and regretfully, I hang up on the only woman who I've grown to trust while I shove the phone into my pocket. I will explain everything later, and I know she will understand. I have to find him first, I need to sort this out and get him back – I'm growing increasingly desperate as each minute passes, I need to go, I must leave.

What kind of man would I be if I just let this go after realizing that this is the solution to all of my problems? To prolong this torture would be so wrong of me, so masochistic, so self-deprecating and harmful to my health, my mind, my life. I need to speak to him and tell him exactly what happened – every single detail, every horrid, abhorrent action that took place that night without my consent or my reasoning, my will. I will beg for a mere moment of his time, I will be persistent and eager and he will hear me out and I don't care if he kicks me out yet again because I will stay. I will become dead weight until his ears have filled with all my explanations and my pleas, every single emotion he's planted in me – I want him to know everything. He's going to hear it all today, I promise myself this - I will not return to this estate until I'm sated with the satisfaction of being in his presence for the first time in five long months.

"Ciel, sir – here you go! We apologize for the wait!" An attendant places the keys in my palm and points frantically to his right, knocking me out of my rampant train of thought. "w-we didn't know you would be leaving so soon – your car is parked in the second row, third space, we are truly sorr-"

"Not a problem – thank you, stay warm."

I nod at the man in lieu of patting him on the shoulder and touching him and finally race to my vehicle's side. My shoes tap against the cold asphalt and I'm glad they've cleared all the snow from the driveway or I'd be a stumbling mess at the moment.

My door cracks open, the ice on the heavy frame falling right to the floor before I place myself inside and curse at the freezing leather interior.

"Come on…this will take forever to defrost…" I let my window fall open and start the ignition – I'm not going to wait for my windshield to clear, I'll just stick my head out and drive, I have no time. Surely I'll look a fool driving erratically down the road like some over-excited dog, but admittedly – I share the same sentiments as one. I want to get on the road, I want to go fast – I want to get to my destination, I want to excitedly jump all over the person I love.

My breath cascades out of the warmth of my mouth and I silently hate myself for going out in mere slacks and a dress shirt. The black fabric of my fitted vest does nothing for warmth, but none of that matters to me now, this is why cars have heaters.

The purr of the engine infuses me with adrenaline and I lick my lips as my eyes flicker to the rear-view mirror, catching my own reflection. The long strands of my slept-in hair are messy and stick to the cool perspiration on my neck, my cheeks stained red, my lips tinted the same. I'm ready.

I'm so fucking ready.

A rush of heat flows through me as I think about seeing him, touching him, smelling him, and I stare at myself and think about how I haven't been with anyone in five whole months. Am I selfish to even entertain the possibility? Probably. Do I care? Not at all. I'm willing to break that abstinence only with him if he wishes it. No one else. Even I can't taint my own self, but I will grant him permission to wreck me any day of the week.

"Sebastian, you better be there."

* * *

"So there I was, me – Alois Trancy,  _me_ , the most popular social butterfly in the business you know? And I had been overhearing Phantomhive this and Phantomhive that and you know what before I even  _say_  anything - that family has been on our asses for TEN years. Ten!... Michaelis? Michaelis are you listening?"

Phantomhive. The name makes my heart beat erratically. It makes the pit of my stomach tighten. I feel so many things all at the same time, yet I'm not sure of what exactly it is I'm feeling.

"EXCUSE ME, I'm trying to tell you the story of my demise here...geh, so rude."

My eyes slowly roll from the fresh pages of my notebook and up to the face of my patient. My lips want to move but I can't say a word, so I merely nod in acknowledgment of his presence.

"As I was saying, so I went to college with this Phantomhive guy, and at first he seemed easy-going but then ohh let me tell you, he was just mr-better-than-everybody-else and had this niche for proving it. We were enemies only about three months into our meeting, and that was when I realized his family dominated the industry my dad was slowly trying to overtake. It was a mess, it was a disaster, really."

The man before me brushes his blonde hair back with triple, somewhat frantic sets of swipes. I notice his temple begin to dampen with perspiration, and when I look into his bulging, glassy eyes - they stare vacantly at nothing.

"This past summer...I lured that little asshole into my home with the promise of negotiations. And the piece of shit actually trusted me. Naturally, it was a set-up. I already knew my moron of a father would sell off our only lucrative prospect to this asshole's father - so I wanted something in return, can you blame me? I wanted his humiliation - I wanted his worth. I wanted to fuck him over from the inside out."

Each erratic thump I feel against my chest fills me with this something that makes all of my muscles tense. As the blood pulsates throughout my entire body each and every word that comes out of his mouth seems to intensify the rushing sensation of every single nerve in my being.

Ciel. His name invades my thoughts even though this man hasn't even spoken it once. Even if it's another Phantomhive he is speaking of, surely that person is close to Ciel. The thought makes my head light, to know that this deviant before me has hurt someone close to the person I care so much about. If whatever he did is illegal, I will definitely not hesitate to report him. I will have him forcibly removed from the premises if need be.

If he continues to speak so flippantly about this family, I might just blurt something out. I'm trying so hard to control it, yet I want to know more. And he wants to tell me. He seems to be rambling, his lips dry and crusted at the corners from speaking far too fast and much too often.

"I had a pile of coke, lots of wine, or wine-cocktails as I call them - with my special little ingredient added in. So I-"

"Ingredient...?" The question fumbles out of my lips and the sound of my own voice surprises not only me, but him as well.

"Ah, you're interested huh! Heh, yeah, just a dash of GHB, mm. Some call it the date-rape drug but if you take a bit right before you fuck and cut it with some wine ughhh, wow it's something else completely. It's like taking a shit-ton of E and getting your brains fucked out but without all that hippy shit, know what I mean?"

"Oh..." I nod, because I don't know what else to do.

"So anyway, I get the little faggot to drink. He's like the country's most experienced sommelier, so naturally he notices the wine has been tainted but it looks like he's following daddy's orders so he drinks..."

_A sommelier...Ciel is a sommelier._

"...like the entire cup of wine and I even get him to snort some of my shit, like - I can't believe he actually did it haha! And this guy, man let me tell you, fucking light-weight. Could you imagine, the guy's tinier than I am I mean real fragile, petite motherfucker, a waist like a little fucking girl."

_Tinier. Petite._

"So did I mention I had a group of guys there? Well, I had a group of guys there. Got 'em off the internet, just hot virgins who would fuck me for the night for two grand each. I think there were like four maybe five, not too sure. Anyway, so a few hours into the night the piece of shit is knocked out cold. So naturally I started undressing him. The man is a slut like seriously he has more of a sex addiction than I do, so I wasn't surprised that I saw this crazy hickey on his little perfect throat. I think that's what set me off now that I look back on it, I just wanted to fuck him up after that."

_Addiction. Hickey..._

_No._

_No this can't be._

My anxiety intensifies as I let each hard breath release from my nostrils. My mind is trying to reason with the feeling of sheer rage, and my heart...

My heart starts to ache.

My chest feels like it's about to collapse and my hands start to tremble. Something...something is wrong. Something is very wrong with this story.

"He was a whore anyway so after we undressed him he was kind of semi-conscious. Some of the guys tried to, you know, play with his shit to make him feel like the cheap slut that he is, but he never got it up, not even once throughout the whole night. That didn't stop the guys from lining up and gangbanging his fucking brains out, though. Ahh, the look on his face let me tell you! It was so so sweet!"

My teeth hurt because my jaw has snapped shut, my mandible clenched as hard as possible. This man, no, this criminal before me...surely he is still talking about someone else, there's no way...it couldn't be...

"I remember the only thing he said that night, I remember it like it was yesterday. He had two dicks up in him, two slipping in and out of his mouth, his body was all flopping around on the floor and I had just finished giving him like - a million bites and bruises, anyway...when he opened his mouth it was, damn, how do I describe it. It was so cute! Haha! His dumb fucking face was all red, his ruined chest was all sweaty and gross, all these guys had shot their load all over him not too long before, and he just screamed out this guy's name just out of nowhere!"

It can't be. It wasn't him. It wasn't Ciel. It wasn't  _my_  Ciel.

"Sebastian Sebastiaaaaaan!"

...

...what… _what did he just_ …

"HAHAH! I mean he screamed that fucking name like he was being murdered! He said it like twenty times too before we placed a dirty rag in his fucking mouth and banged that bitch until he couldn't make another fucking sound. Not that I fucked him, ew, I have standards you know. I bet he was loose like a woman – like all women probably are. Have you ever had loose-ass pussy, Michaelis? That shit is gross. The same goes for men. No one wants an over-used cum dispenser of an asshole. The guys I hired seemed to enjoy themselves though, so all in all I guess he was tight enough, the little bitch."

My vision is blurry. My hands are hot. My heart is in my throat. This can't be happening. It wasn't Ciel, it wasn't my Ciel. Mine...he's  _mine_. No one elses. It was someone else. I still don't believe it, it can't be true, he never said the name. I keep telling myself this over and over yet this truth contradicts the thoughts I keep trying to use as a means to calm myself. I frantically piece together each and every word and I can feel myself begin to break down, to slip out of control. To snap.

"Although I think I did come inside his mouth, hmm…you know funny thing - I don't really remember, isn't that weird? I bet his lips are good for hugging cock I can tell you that much, man…I know you're straight but just imagine the hottest woman you've ever fucked and then picture her being able to  _actually_  give good head. Because women don't know how to suck dick am I right or am I right? They're all toothy and shit, then they twist your dick while they suck it – WHY do they do that? I'm rambling aren't I? Ugh, women are disgusting…but this guy…this guy had his mouth snapped open like some inexperienced virgin, his tongue dead in his mouth while everyone slapped their shit into his throat. It was probably on par with fucking an invalid, a virgin handicapped motherfucker you know. Like imagine if he was some brain-dead bitch with big fucking tits you'd do the same, right? Yeah, you would. Get to dominate that shit with your dick, damn. But anyway, shit, I bet when conscious he really knows how to blow 'em."

My fingers curl over the frames of my glasses and I remove them from my face, letting them drop carelessly onto my desk. One more word. If he speaks one more word...

"That morning was crazy I mean he went on his rampage, wow. It was the start of everything - it was the core of all my problems, Michaelis! He caused me to go insane! He ruined my family! He obliterated our business! Ciel Phantomhive the litt-"

" **NO!"** I slam both fists on my desk, almost cracking it in two.

" **NOT HIM, NOT HIM!** " The words burst out through my gnashing teeth, my snarling lips beginning to tremble with rage.

The only sound my ears can process is the violent screeching of the table as my body overtakes and conquers all actions of my mind. Speaking through hard panting breaths I stare the piece of trash down, my chest rising and falling so fast that I can literally feel the adrenaline pumping wildly through my every vein.

"I'm...my name is Sebastian," my speech is shaky, my whole body is shaking " _I'm_  Sebastian..."

At that moment...all sanity left me.

All sanity left me and I lost it.

* * *

The inside of my car is so hot from the blast of the heater that I'm sweating. Perhaps it's not just the heat, but my nerves as well. All frost on the windshield has now cleared, and the temperature within reminds me of the blistering summer weather I'm all too familiar with. Snow still falls, white envelops my vehicle, but I focus only on the stark black of the asphalt I drive on. Yellow lines pass quickly one after another, a blur of paint being the only thing keeping me from careening off the road completely.

"Come on, come on Sebastian why aren't you answering your phone? It's still 4:40, you don't leave for another twenty minutes come on…"

I'm trying to keep calm as I drive and hold my cell at the same time, but I can't help but bite my lip in anticipation. When he answers, when I finally get to hear him, when he graces my ears with the sound of his speech - I think I'll die a little inside. To have his deep voice melt me from the inside out, his words filling my heart until it bursts, the way he breathes over the receiver causing my stomach to do flips - I want this! I'm excited, fuck. I want him to be happy to hear from me, it's unbearable albeit slightly unrealistic to think about but I don't care. I want him to be just as happy as I am right now, and fuck if it isn't too much to ask if I hear him laugh just a bit just a tiny tiny bit I think I could die a happy man right here and now.

" _Fuck you, jackass_!"

Okay maybe not right now, since people are beginning to yell out of their windows due to my erratic driving.

I need to get a grip on myself so I end the call and throw my phone to the side. It tumbles onto the leather of the passenger seat and I lick my lips again and again because I know I'm getting closer and closer.

Oh god.

The building is now within my sight and I let out a small drawn-out squeal because I'm practically jumping out of my seat. I never thought I'd ever see this place again yet here it is. The blue windows, the pale cream exterior, the trimmed bushes, the bricked pavement outside of the entrance - it's all there, just as it was this past summer. And he's in there. Sebastian, the only man I've ever fell for, the only human in this entire world that I would give everything up for is right there, right inside.

My brakes squeak as my car speeds into the back parking lot and when I throw my vehicle into the closest space possible I forcefully knock back into my seat. I turn the engine off and sit there in silence as the cold starts to creep in. My doubts start to creep in along with it.

My black dress shirt has been shoved up just below my elbows, my vest remains perfectly in place but my slacks are wrinkled slightly from sleeping in them. I snap the visor down and look at myself in the tiny mirror that they manufacture for the vanity of drivers. God, I look a complete mess. My cheeks are all red, my lips have been bitten far too many times to go unnoticed. The hair that I let grow out these past five months curves slightly at the tips and causes them to stick out behind my ears. My eyes are wide, frantic almost. I lift my chin and let two fingers slide over the expanse of my throat, feeling my own skin, feeling the last place he ever willingly laid his lips. It's warm.

I stare at my Adam's apple for only a moment and then meet my own eyes in the reflection to face the horror of my cheeks becoming even more flushed than before. I need to stop thinking about things like that. I'm not going to barge in there and jump him like some wild animal why that would be just crazy, I mean…not that I would mind, I just…have to think of other things. More important things – like him hearing me out. I know he will, he's too sweet to ever hold such a long grudge. He would never hurt someone like that, this I'm sure of.

Maybe my outlook is too optimistic but I don't care, it doesn't matter to me. All I want is to see him I want my eyes to reflect and process the light of his fucking body, god, his body. No, not his body, stop it. If he hears me out maybe he will let me stay a while. Maybe he'll let me sit down and speak to him properly. Maybe he'll let me touch him. A hug, a hug I swear that's all I need just an innocent hug. I can breathe him in, inhale the skin of his throat, his cologne and that's it I will be content just with that. Even if we solely remain friends...

No…I can't say I'd be too happy about that. I want more than that, I'm selfish, I know. I betrayed his trust, I did something so stupid and I hurt him. I never wanted to do such a thing to him. He's so innocent, so pure. He wouldn't hurt a fly, and I love him for that. I adore his self-control, I envy it.

* * *

"Security! Security, this way!"

My receptionist bursts through my office door, swinging her entire body onto the wooden surface so forcefully that she almost breaks the hinges clear off. She runs over to me a hysterical mess but I can't avert my eyes from the person I currently have in custody.

I'm on top of this man. I have him pinned chest-first onto the floor. My belt was removed during our fight as I used it to tie his useless, weakened wrists together. His drugged-out body is frail and he's breathing hard, but not as hard as I am.

I straddle his back with one hand gripping his bound arms and my other smashing his face into the carpeted floor. I dislike the feel of his hair, I dislike the contact of his body – I hate this man. I hate someone for the first time in my life.

I don't even know what happened. I attacked him. He attacked me. I tackled him. I beat his face.

My knuckles on my right hand are sore, red, bruised. My lip is bleeding as he took a hard swing at my jaw, actually, he swung first. I can taste the blood and I can feel it drip slowly down the side of my chin and onto my throat.

I feel like I blacked out, like I don't remember anything. I feel like a wild, untamed animal.

His white jacket is slumped lifelessly onto the floor next to us, and I'm breathing furiously through my teeth as I clench his dirty blonde hair tighter, pulling the strands as all my weight shifts onto his arrested skull. His back is clothed with a thin white dress shirt that I can see through and it makes me snarl in disgust.

This man touched Ciel -  _my_  Ciel. This man violated him, drugged him. This man raped him. He tortured him. As I breathe heavily through my nostrils I groan out, growling, clenching his hair tighter and tighter with every thought that passes. He dare act like a human when he's no better than some rabid beast? He thinks I'm going to treat him like he has any value, like he has a soul, like he has a purpose in life? No. Not ever. He hurt Ciel, and as bad as I've already smacked my fist into his face – I want to hurt him even more.

"Help me, ugh! HELP!" He cries out, his gurgling voice sickening me. I lift my body slightly and jam my knee into the curve of his back, pressing into his spine with no remorse whatsoever.

"Shut up," I growl my words, churning them out from deep within my pulsating throat, "you stay right there while security comes. Say one word and I will kill you. I will kill you I promise you."

"D-doctor Michaelis please stop oh my, oh my gosh!" The receptionist fans both of her hands in front of her face as she panics and watches me become someone I never knew I could ever, ever become.

"Get off, AGH!" His back cracks when I knee him as hard as I can, shutting him right up.

"You're a criminal, and you're going to jail, and I hope you're unwillingly subjected to horrible, vile things – because that's what you are. Disgusting. You're  _shit_ , do you hear me?"

I knee him again, my muscles contracting, my joints jerking. And then I do it again and again, and the sound of his back being pummeled by my heavy limb fuels me to keep going. More and more I keep beating into him, he's crying he's screaming.

No, wait. I'm the one who's screaming – I'm the one who's crying. My body is hovering over his and I'm violently crashing my knee into him over and over, tears are silently streaming out of me and I'm screaming. I'm  _screaming._  


"DO YOU HEAR ME?" _T_ _he smack of his body._  


"DO YOU?"  _The crack of his back._  


"DO YOU?!"  _The wail of his voice._  


"DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?!"

Silence.

I'm a frantic mess, my voice is a gurgle of hiccups and grunts and growls and other animalistic noises that I never knew I had in me. When he stops yelling I'm left panting over him, huffing out my breath, my chest convulsing over and over as I try to calm the chaotic way in which I'm acting.

"S-stop it! Stop! Doctor, please!" I feel a tugging on my bicep and I get pulled back hard onto the floor. The receptionist is remarkably strong, and when she moves me aside she goes to check on the man I just tried to beat into non-existence.

"Hey, hey, are you okay? Can you hear me?" She asks him, cautiously touching his face with shaky hands.

"F-fuck you, fat bitch" He groans out and tries to twist his arms free. The resilient piece of garbage.

Before my bewildered receptionist can reply to such a disrespect, two guards run into the room and quickly take custody of the criminal. Removing my belt from his wrists they replace it with cuffs and then lift his limp body up into position. A small bag falls out from his pocket and plops onto the floor, white powder contained. One of the guards picks it up and holds it up to the light, a frown on his face when he realizes what it is.

"Up we go, we're going to take you in for questioning, don't try to struggle."

And with that, the three men exit my office, leaving me on the floor with my elbows resting on my knees, trying hard to catch my breath.

"D-doctor…are you okay?!" I feel a cold finger on my chin and she moves my face from side to side, inspecting me, "oh my…you're all beat up…do you want some ice? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"No," I gently brush her hand away from my chin and swallow, tasting blood, "I have to go to the station and file this deviant's report. And after that – I have to go find Ciel."

"Ciel…?"

I'm instantly blanketed with sadness. All those things I said to Ciel. All the assumptions, the accusations. I'm a monster. I have to get to him as soon as possible, I need to apologize to him for everything that happened. I'm such an idiot, I'm such a moron.

"Go home for the day, everyone's already left anyway – I'm leaving now. I apologize for all of this." I speak slowly and almost at a whisper, directing the woman to leave me be. She abides and backs away from me before turning around and practically speeding out of the building, no questions asked.

I get up on shaky legs and tuck in my dress shirt that came undone in the fight. The first two buttons have popped off and I can only imagine how horrible I look. My palm slicks my hair back only to have it fall in front of my face again and I lick the side of my bloodied mouth. My eyes start to focus normally and I can feel myself begin to calm down bit by bit.

Ciel, I'm so sorry for what I did. I need to find you. I need to show you how sorry I am.

With that final thought I maniacally race out of the building, my eyes locked on to the floor, my mind focused only on one thin - the world closed off to me completely.

* * *

I can't even think straight! I can't even see right or breathe right or move right! My whole body has been overcome with this excitement, this heightened exhilaration that I'm almost shaking from the sole thought of seeing him. I've been grooming myself in my car for almost fifteen minutes and finally after I unbutton and re-button my vest for the third time I work up the nerve to open the door.

Fuck, it's cold out here. Snow has stopped falling but it's all over me, all over the ground, the roofs, the cars. I have no coat so I jump up and down in place just once to shake the feeling of numbness from my limbs.

I'm so eager that I can't control it - I'm so certain about this that I don't want to. I'm purposely losing myself and I love it. I let out an encouraging breath that floats into the atmosphere around me as I stick my hands in my pockets, my eyes on my feet while I run so I don't slip on any snow.

My black shoes crunch onto the asphalt and finally onto the brick entryway of the building. I'm thinking a million things at once and I can't help but smile as I cautiously hang my head to watch where I'm going.

As my hand is about to extend out into the glass doors, they automatically burst open. I feel a harsh thud on my shoulder, as if someone has run into me and it knocks me off my course completely.

"Ah..sorr-"

I almost slip as I'm trying to apologize so I regain my footing by leaning forward onto the door that this person just barged through. Once I get myself stabilized I hiss at the way I was just checked into place, my frozen fingers barely clenching the large pane of glass.

I finally look over my shoulder to see who the perpetrator of this rude act was, and as my eyes adjust to the brightness of white all around me, I squint in the direction of the sidewalk.

But I see no one.

Whoever it was who bolted out of this building must have been in such a hurry that they weren't even watching where they were going. Admittedly, neither was I.

For some reason I continue to stare off into the distance, thinking that I'll see someone, I'm not sure why. I hold my left shoulder with my palm and my eyebrows knit as I'm overcome with unease.

A cold, ominous gust of wind whips at my face and it rips me from the sight of the empty sidewalk. I blink twice and then swallow, finally turning my head forward and finding refuge within the warmth of the heated building.

What is this sudden ailment I'm experiencing? This eerie calmness, a stagnant omen that begets the promise of misfortune – I feel it. I stand there still holding my shoulder, letting the heat envelop my limbs, letting it attempt to soothe my mind. Something doesn't feel right to me. All excitement and happiness has slowly left me only to be replaced with uncertainty and worry.

I need to see him  _now._  


I begin to race up to his floor, foregoing the elevator and speeding up the emergency stairwell. Each step I climb motivates my legs to move faster and faster. I feel fear. I feel sick now, like something is wrong with everything I've planned like I won't be able to see him, like he's not there.

I burst through the doors when I arrive at the correct floor and then sprint into the waiting room.

No one is here. No patients, no receptionist.

I swallow a lump in my throat and try to calm myself, my tight vest constricting my waist and forcing me to take in shorter breaths. My eyes are scanning the entire office as I walk down the small corridor – still no one, not a single soul, not a sound to be heard.

I reach his door and it is already opened. My shoes slowly step onto the carpeted floor and I bite both of my lips as I look at the scene inside. I get flashes of every single time I've been here. I picture us together here, there, on the door on the wall…on the floor. But no one is here either.

As I'm trying to reason with myself and think that he might have gone home for the day – I see it.

There's a belt on the floor, carelessly thrown. Buttons. A jacket a few feet away from that.

Each step I take towards the strewn clothing makes my head feel lighter and lighter. The soft squeak of the floor beneath me is the only sound in the room until I let out a small 'no' right under my breath when I bend down to pick up the belt.

It's his. I've seen this belt. I've touched this belt. I know that it's his. I let the leather slip through my palm and I clench the buckle, squeezing it tightly. His belt is on the floor…alongside…

This jacket.

The long strap slips through my fingers and falls right down to my feet. The bronze buckle clinks as it collides and I approach the foreign jacket, moving it cautiously with my foot, letting it sprawl out before me.

It's a man's coat, a small man. A man with money. A man who likes white. Who wears white in winter? The way it's tailored makes me frown but the color of the silk lining makes me swallow my own heart.

Purple.

The familiarity of the style, the way it's been tailored and pressed - it can't be, no. Definitely not.

I can feel the pit of my stomach twist, like I've been pulled back down into the trenches where I once resided and it physically pains me, it stings. There's no questioning what went on here. Everything is out of place, clothes are thrown wildly in the heat of the moment. Buttons popped off in a flurry of lust-induced embrace. He was with someone. He gave himself to someone just a few moments ago. The chair is moved, the desk as well. The frames on the wall knocked out of place by a body dragging up and down by wild rocking. The thick tension I can feel in the room. No matter how much I deny it there's no question – he's found another. And the person he found, the person whose face flickers in my mind frightens me, it frightens me so much that I feel all color leave my face.

Fear causes me to finally move, and like I'm running for my own life I feel a burst of adrenaline and look to my left.

My eyes dart across the room from object to object. I become frantic. I stumble over to his desk and I see his name plaque 'S. Michaelis'. I see a small closed notebook that I push to the side to get to his calendar. I grab it like it's the only thing that'll keep me from going crazy right now and push it up to my face as my vision has begun to waiver.

I read and read, I scan and process and overlook times and dates and names until I reach today's little black box. There are three lines that have been neatly written into place, the handwriting of another. What manifests from these simple scribbles engulfs me, the painful sting of the unsettling reality that I know I'm about to unveil with my own two eyes binds me - it captures me, it makes me hold my own breath as if it were my very last.

In what seems like a miracle sent from above I don't recognize the first patient, and the foreign name calms me so. The second? No, unfamiliar. No one I know. I feel momentary relief. The third…the third appointment, the last person to see him today, on the other hand...

It makes me  _shake_.

My palm rises to cover my mouth when I read the final name and all of a sudden the world around me freezes. My eyes lock up, my breath hitches, my body suspended in this unfortunate moment in time. What spoils of ignorance I once harbored have all come violently crashing down, breaking my being apart piece by piece, tearing my heart right from me, ripping my soul out of the cavity of the body I once willingly possessed.

I drop the book, it plops down onto the desk and I slowly lift my other hand to cup over the trembling lips of my mouth. I feel everything I felt five months ago bombard every part me. I feel the pangs of worthlessness, the fleeting loss of stability. I feel myself begin to break apart all over again. Everything I've worked for, all of my therapy, my devotion, my abstinence - it all vacates into a pit of negated meaning, of nothingness.

In a split second I lose the only thing I ever possessed during my entire rehabilitation - the will to exist. I've just mentally exhausted all possibilities of inhibiting any and all forms of positive thinking. My life has devolved into what it was the same exact day that I last step foot in this office and it kills me, it wretches my insides and leaves me hopeless and inept.

Alois Trancy, you thief.

You finally got me.

..

* * *


	20. Chapter 20

_"I want to live here, I want to die here..."_

* * *

In the specific instance of time in which you realize your life is falling apart, why is it that your rationalities vanish? Why do your morals become clouded, or rather, non-existent? Why does your mind succumb to the vacuous pit that you yourself have created? It makes me shake, it makes me want to release that rush of emotion again and again, beating civility into the face of disorder because that's the only effective method. It makes me want to draw blood.

I feel overwrought with anger, and my actions reflected that exact moment when I felt my whole world around me crumble. To have that disgusting excuse for a man under me, to feel the structure of his face smash against the bones of my fist, well, I hate to admit it but it felt  _good._  


_It felt real good._

To empower such strength over the person who hurt Ciel -  _my Ciel_  - I could only hope that his punishment is beyond severe. I hope he suffers and rots and feels the humiliation that he so rightfully deserves, because if it were left solely up to me - he would be struggling to breathe instead of sitting comfortably in the confines of a cell.

"Doctor Michaelis, thank you so much for your report. We appreciate your cooperation."

My body is so tense and frantic that I scribble my signature on the statement with a shaky hand and slide the clipboard over to the officer, practically shoving it into his chest. With merely a nod I am out of the small room and I slam the door shut behind me.

I'm trying to rush out of the police station but as I head towards the exit I see a long hallway that connects to the processing area in the back, a thin wall of reinforced glass separating my space and the other. When I catch sight of a blond head of hair my fists immediately tighten and I stop dead in my tracks as he approaches.

It's him. The man who hurt the only person I've ever willingly touched or kissed or slept next to. The only person who I want to see right now, who I  _need_ to see right now. I see him being dragged towards the back and when he lifts his bruised face and notices me he smiles crookedly, almost laughing. He murmurs and I can hear him through the partition, his voice on the verge of menacing.

"Well look who it is! The doctor! The doctor!" He smirks, "you running off to see that little faggot, hm? Too bad I can't attend the  _royal_  party tonight, what a shame. Haha! I would have  _loved_  a second round with Ciel, mmm, he could have showed me what his insides feel like".

I'm not sure what comes over me but I slam my palms against the glass and grunt like an animal as my heart races at his words. The officer jerks on his cuffs but he continues to speak, the anger within me starting to seep out just by looking at him.

"I would have left his ugly ass battered and bruised right on his parent's bed-"

"Alright Trancy, that's enough."

The officer pushes him as he lazily reprimands the criminal and the two finally pass me and I'm left there with my face practically pressed up against the glass, my fingers tightening into solid fists over the partition.

I feel so disgusted by his idle threat. It makes the pit of my stomach churn with such contempt that I almost miss his words completely. My eyes move back and forth as I process and repeat everything he said, and despite the fact that it makes me want to scream I pick apart the importance of his foul diatribe.

There's something going on tonight. At Ciel's parent's estate, I could only guess that's what he meant.

Just the thought calms me, it makes me breathe, it makes my muscles relax. If what he said is truth then I would be able to see him tonight. I could speak to him and I could hear his voice, I could feel him.

I swallow as I picture it in my mind and in half a second I am sprinting to my car. My black slacks keep slipping as I pace faster and faster, feeling as if it was worth using my belt to tie up those emaciated wrists, but hating that I left it in my office. The sleeves of my dress-shirt have been pushed up to my elbows and I can see the fabric start to untuck from my pants as I race. I can literally feel myself becoming more disheveled as the seconds pass.

The freezing air bites at my state of undress once I burst through the station doors. I have no coat or sweater, not one thing to keep me warm, but I don't care - because I feel hot. I'm frantic, I'm excited. I want to see Ciel. I need to see Ciel.

I jog up to my car and open the rickety door. When I finally sit down I spare no time and start the engine, happy that it works on the first try. My breath is heavy due to the frigid air, so I crank the heat and then take a good look at myself in the rear-view mirror for the first time since morning.

I look horrible.

My hair is a mess, my throat covered in sweat, my bottom lip completely cut open on the right side of my mouth. The blood has stopped flowing but with the way I keep licking it I'm sure it'll start again. My eyes shift to a bruise that's starting to form, tucked right beneath my eye. I lean forward a bit and touch it, only to hiss when I press too hard. I don't look like myself, I'm not this kind of person. I hate violence.

What would Ciel say if he saw me like this? Would he be disgusted by my appearance? Will the sight of me make him angry, or worse - what if he rejects me? No, I absolutely couldn't take that.

As my eyes drift away from my reflection I have a daunting thought, causing me to nervously tap my fingers on the surface of the cold steering wheel.

What if he's found another? What if what I did was so horrible that it turned him into an even worse addict than before?

The engine rattles, temporarily distracting me and halting my nervous motions. I repeat the question only once more and finally come to the conclusion that I don't care. I don't care if he has one or two or twenty men he's seeing, I will make him mine exclusively. I'll show him what it's like to be worshiped, to be loved. I'll give him everything he needs and there is no more doubt that I can give him what he wants. He can have all of me, I will promise him this. Happiness, devotion...satisfaction - I want to give it to him.

His face is all I can think about and it kills me that I haven't seen him in five whole months. It physically pains me, it makes my stomach sick thinking about how much I miss him. To see him even from afar would be a luxury for my eyes, and I realize that I have to get to him as soon as possible.

My hand squeezes the shifter and I place the car into gear, realizing that I have no idea where his parents live. His family owns the most profitable winery in the country and their estate is home to a slew of events, the address must be public somewhere.

I get a rush of a memory and remember this small establishment that sells wine not even two minutes away from here. They only cater to the finest clientele, and I'm sure I can get some answers from them. It's my only choice right now.

The sky is darkening as the sun has now set and my heart feels eager, desperate to finally have him once again, to hold him, to feel him holding me. With the forceful slam of my foot I accelerate faster and faster, hoping that this will go exactly as planned, praying that I can steal just one glimpse of him tonight.

* * *

Death. Dare I say I welcome the thought? Dare I flirt with the possibility of my breath halting, my heart ceasing to beat, my blood to rush, my flesh to feel the world around me? It tempts me even to relish in such an emotion, yet I remain emotionless. I want to break down and scream and cry right here in this office but I don't. I won't.

If I did, that would mean that I am human, that I am flesh and blood and brains and that's the farthest from how I feel right now. I'm empty, I'm hollow - I'm broken. I feel like my insides have been scooped right out of me, my heart carelessly torn, ripped from the cavity of my chest as if it were some useless, ill-fated organ that only caused me turmoil.

To think that he's found someone, to know that his innocence has been lost and taken, no,  _stolen_  right from him - it makes my legs grow weak, my body barely standing as I drop the planner back onto his desk.

That name still stares back at me, it haunts me. Alois Trancy. How could someone as classless as he win the heart of the most caring human being on earth? Sebastian. He's so flawless, so kind and gentle and beautiful. His intelligence, his empathy for others, his philanthropy, his entire being is just encased in complete perfection that it seems so impossible for him to ever even fathom touching someone as vile and disgusting as Trancy. Why. Why did this happen? How?

Why would he choose someone so dirty, so inept, so abhorrently lazy? I want to know what Trancy has that I don't yet the thought itself sickens me. Perhaps the man I pine for is simply not attracted to me, that could be a possibility. With that thought I look down onto my body and swallow.

The black vest that tightly hugs my small waist embellishes my svelte figure as the expensive silk wraps around it. My thin, effeminate arms that dangle lifelessly by my sides, my pale skin so white it hurts. It makes me realize that I was probably ugly to him, ugly and weak - not fit enough to ever be caught standing by his side. To ever be held by him or loved by him. He was forced to touch me, I practically threw myself onto him and in retrospect my actions were unbelievably disrespectful. Of course I wasn't his type, of course I was only imagining it all.

My legs finally move and I slowly walk around his desk, my left hand tracing the surface of the table, my fingertips feeling the cool wood as if purposely inspecting its temperature. The pain in my chest only heightens at the touch and when I feel like I am going to collapse from the constraints of misery I sit down on his chair.

The relief of the muscles that ache is only momentary as I slump into a lazy hunched-over position, my right elbow on the desk and my palm shielding my eyes from the sight of anything in this wretched office.

I smell him. It's so faint but I pick up on it instantly. My chest rises and falls, inhaling the air as if I can summon his presence if I breathe him in enough. That light scent of his cologne, the mix of his own essence - it makes heat rise up to my face, it pushes me right off of the edge of stability and I immediately release a guttural, tearless sob that echoes throughout the office. That feeling you get right before you break down, right before your entire world shatters - that's what I am currently experiencing, that's what's about to happen. Again.

It's as if everything is ending, as if my life has swelled into this complicated, stressful mass of deprecation so much so that I feel like all of the stable rationalities and reasonings that I once possessed are about to pop. They're on the verge of bursting and I can feel it I can feel it in my bones, in my blood, in my core it's happening - and when I feel my body start to shake from the pressure of it all I swear I can even  _taste_ it.

In that moment all of my defenses completely shatter and I break down right there on his desk, with no shame whatsoever.

Tears stream out of my eyes, my back hunches over even more and I sob right into the palm of my hand like I haven't done in five months time. I can feel my whole body tremble, my small insignificant form shuddering each time I release a choked breath. The pain of everything I just witnessed is spewing from within and my eyes shut so tight that I find pause in the fact that I can't see. I don't want to be in his office, I don't want to see his things or smell his scent or feel his presence because if I keep thinking about it I keep crying, and as I keep crying I keep slipping away from myself.

I tried so hard to keep it together for all these months, I really did. I was mentally stable, I was successful - and now it's all being taken away from me, my dignity apprehended by the thief of grief itself, of deep-rooted hatred and malevolence, of regret. Every breath I suck in through tear-soaked lips has me falling further and further down into the horrible trenches of solidarity and singularity, only coupled with the marauding thoughts that I shouldn't even humor my bleak existence with the breath of life.

It's all emptying out of me. All of my emotions, all of my self-worth and motivation, my everything. It was all I had left and now it's being spilled onto the desk of the man who I so wrongfully fell in love with. Everything I did was wrong. Every disgusting salacious act of mine was completely out of order, no wonder he rejected me. No wonder I'm back at square one again, in the same office, bursting my eyes out just like I did this past summer.

I dig the tips of my fingers into my scalp and claw at my hair as I let it all out, my hot breath pumping out harsh sobs onto both my wrists. My digits rake across my long strands and I can feel them as they delicately fall over my bone-white knuckles. The office is eerily silent, and right in the middle of my breakdown I feel my pocket start to vibrate.

My head is pounding so hard that I feel like the folds of my brain will begin to seep right out of my ears. I try to wipe away my disgust by rubbing my eyes with the back of my hands and I cough twice, my voice a soft, quiet shell of it former self.

I lean back into the chair and try to still my right hand as it continues to tremble from my expulsion of emotions. I shake it mid-air and open and close my palm a couple of times before I finally dig into my front pocket, fumbling for the device. When I pull out the phone I sniff into the sound of silence and look at my screen before answering. It's my mother.

"Mom..."

My voice cracks as I place the phone up to my ear and I close my eyes when I hear nothing. It's not the average nothing, no, but that quiet before the storm that you get from your parents prior to them figuring you out. I can hear her thoughts, I can practically feel her worry encase me in a tomb of concern.

" _Ciel...baby_..."

There it is. The one thing I don't want to hear right now. The one thing that gets me every single time. Not only do I feel like wiping my legacy right from this earth but when I hear how I've affected my own mother it makes me want to beat the shit out of myself. I was useless to Sebastian and now I'm also a failure of a son and the way it's wrapped up in such a nice little package of degradation has me snarling into the phone.

" _Hey. You answer me right this second, Ciel._ "

I don't want to speak because if I speak I'll just lose it. I'll cry and scream into the phone like some moronic teenager whose been denied their chance at love as if it were their last. But I'm not some useless teenager, I'm a man - a grown man, and that only makes it so much worse.

" _Look, just come home. Rest here, stay the night here. You don't have to make an appearance if you don't want to but just please come home soon so I know you're okay_."

She knows me so well it hurts. I nod slowly into the cell as if she can see it and I gurgle out a reply.

"...on my...way."

My pathetic attempt to sound like a normal human being fails when I practically whisper into the phone, and before I could even stand to hear a reply from her I remove the cell from my ear and hang up.

I decide that I'll grant her request and drive back home, but I can't promise anything after that. I can't bring myself to make an appearance at the dinner, there's no way I can even fathom such a thing in my current state. My body feels so weak, my mind feels so empty, and my will to do much of anything has just depleted from me completely.

I use all of my strength to get up from the chair and when I slowly walk towards the door I see the belt on the floor lying there as if calling out to me. His belt. The same belt that wrapped around his very waist, the belt that I unfastened and gripped and prayed to be torn off of him. I'm magnetized to it as I grow closer and I stable myself as I bend down to pick it up. The leather strap is dark, almost ominous as I lift it from the floor and I immediately swallow at its weight. My head tilts and I nervously bite my lip as I wrap my palm around it and start to tightly coil the belt around my hand.

It restricts the blood that flows through me. It cinches my nerves so that I can feel pain. It's something of Sebastian's that makes me feel alive, yet the feeling is bitter-sweet when I think of how my whole body would pulse and ache at such a constriction. Imagine how I could feel being victim to a strangulation that riles me up that much, to be on the brink of life and death at the inanimate hands of something he wore. To wait with bated breath and see just how much I despise myself, how far my own self-disgust can influence my actions...

It's all too much.

The thought is fleeting as much as it is morose, and within a split second I open my hand and let the belt fall gracelessly to the ground. The clink of the buckle rattles against the small walls of the room and the long, winding strap entwines around itself as it settles into place.

I need to calm down.

I need to get over this, over him - over everything.

I need to be alone.

* * *

"Th-thank you sir! I really appreciate it - thank you, thank you!" My hand frantically waves, seeing off the owner of the local wine shop as I burst right through the doors.

My heart erratically beats and I'm overcome with energy as I clench the small paper in my palm. I got it. I got the address to the Phantomhive manor. I'm going to see Ciel, I'm going to finally see him I can't wait I just can't. Everything is falling into place, everything is going as it should, it's almost too perfect.

As I practically tear the door from my car and plop myself onto the seat I think of how lucky I am to have obtained such a thing so easily. The man said that the Phantomhive's always throw lavish parties so it is not too uncommon for the public to monitor such events.

It's not too far, if I drive just a bit fast I can get there in about forty minutes. I'll shoot for thirty.

The drive is only minutes but it feels like hours and every block I zoom past I fear being pulled over for speeding. I'm not even thinking straight, either, my mind is full only of Ciel. Will he be happy to see me? Will he let me speak to him, will he let me touch him?

I come upon a red light as that thought passes through me and I immediately feel heat rush up to my face. When my eyes slide towards the rear-view mirror I see how my cheeks have darkened with embarrassment and it makes me grunt at the juvenile way in which I'm acting. No one has ever made me like this before. No one has that power, only him. He controls my body and he doesn't even know it.

"Calm down..." I tell myself at a whisper and flick my eyes back to the road when the light turns green. Slamming my foot on the gas I lick my lips and bite them as I can feel I'm getting closer.

I'm right.

There is an enormous house up ahead. No, rather, a mansion. It's breathtaking, befit of someone like him of course. I can see rows and rows of parked cars surrounding the estate, and for the first time it finally hits me.

How am I going to get in?

My shabby car is barely making it up the hill as I desperately try to figure out a plan. There are people leaving their fancy cars with the valets as they go inside and I am here completely uninvited. I can't even figure out what I should say because I'm too excited at the thought that Ciel is right there, right in that house, only minutes away. The closer I get the harder my heart drums in my chest and when I finally reach the house I slowly let my car crawl up to the gates, my face in awe at the sight.

The night sky is beautiful behind the backdrop of the house, each and every tree in the massive front yard twinkling with tiny, star-like lights. The snow on the ground reflects every bulb, and its a breath-taking display of a winter wonderland. The trees illuminate a path up to the estate, and that is where the front door of the place is eloquently draped in shimmering white cloth that cascades down the enormous pillars of the entrance.

It makes me nervous, seeing all of this class and sophistication. I am so far removed from a life like this, yet it doesn't matter to me at all. I need Ciel. If we are mismatched then so be it, I couldn't care any less. I want him. I want him  _right_  now.

..

Before I know it I am in a short line of cars in the cobblestone-paved driveway and I can't believe I'm actually doing this. What do I say to the valet? Will they even accept my junker of a car? Do I go inside?

Oh no.

I immediately pull down my visor and take a good look at myself as it has just come to my attention that I probably look like a mentally unstable person. I fixate on my face and rub my reddened cheeks, as if it would help to make them less red. Which it doesn't. It only worsens it. The cut on my lip still looks just as bad and I lick it, tasting the metallic flavor. The cut isn't as bad as the bruise under my eye and I somehow hope that I get so embarrassed that the shade of my face covers the blemish all together.

I roll my eyes and then start to comb my hair with my fingers, thankful that despite the strands falling a bit messily it doesn't look too bad. There's nothing else I can do about my face, I'll have to just calmly speak my words and tell them who I am and politely ask for Ciel. It'll be easy.

I nervously rub my thighs with the palms of my sweaty hands and look down towards my chest. I'm wearing a very thin black undershirt beneath my black dress shirt and it is doing nothing to keep me insulated in this cold weather. When I start to pat my clothing I notice all of the buttons that popped off during the fight and let out an agitated sigh. As if it could get any worse. My shirt is barely being held in place by three buttons fastened down the middle. The rest are torn, and it makes me look slovenly. Not only that, but I left my belt at the office as well so my slacks shift lower onto my hips even as I sit.

Maybe I could sneak in...take a waiter's uniform, a butler's, anything I wouldn't care. Hm, no, that would be too much. Surely they will let me speak to Ciel if I explain that I was his therapist and that it's imperative that I see him, right?

The cars move quickly and before I know it I'm second in line, and whatever plan I'm trying to concoct is useless by now. With my hands on the wheel I slump into my seat and tap my fingers, thinking about all of the things I will finally get to say to Ciel. I stare mindlessly outside of the windshield and a sudden movement in my peripheral vision tempts my eyes to shift towards it.

I see an enormous balcony off in the distance, beautifully structured with stone sidings and snow-dusted vines crawling all around it. The flickering of an orange light sets the area aglow, and as thin drapes are pulled back, the silhouette of a person emerges from the doors.

For some reason I can hear my heart in my ears, and as my chest moves up and down my fingers tighten over the wheel.

The person is gowned in a robe as white as the snow, and their hair is dark and somewhat long. It's a man. The figure stares up at the sky as if pondering who knows what, and in a few moments time he finally turns towards my direction and I almost fall victim to cardiac arrest when I make out the features of his face.

It's Ciel.

"Ciel..." I say the name to verify the reality and I'm left dumbstruck in my car as my body starts to move on its own.

My eyes lock onto him and my hands claw at my door and before I know it I'm getting out of my car. His face is so far away but I know its him. That thin body, the way he stands, the way the cloth drapes him - it's him, it's him.

"Ciel!" My mouth moves without my permission and as I close the door to my car I can see my warm breath escape through the frigid night air. I can hear the murmurs of startled strangers but I don't care. Because it's Ciel. My Ciel.

"CIEL!" I cry out to him desperately, my shoes now crunching against the cold cobblestone, my legs magnetized to his direction. He's too far away, though, and he does nothing, he doesn't even hear me or notice me and it frustrates me. I flail my arms all over the place and continue to scream, my throat turning raw.

"Ciel!  **CIEL**!" I shout at the top of my lungs and I'm now running, sprinting towards him. My limbs are so cold they feel like they'll soon be frozen in time but I don't even care, because it's Ciel.

Finally. He's graced me with his presence and I'm smiling as I'm panting out heavy breaths, grunting and gasping for oxygen, sweat forming on my brow. My steps are heavy and I dare to glance behind me when I hear the movements of others. This is when I realize that I look like a madman, or a stalker, but it  _still_  doesn't matter, because I need him to look at me. Please show me your face, Ciel, let me see your eyes, let me tell you how sorry I am! Look at me -  _look_   _at_   _me!_  


"Hey - you! Stop running right now!" The voice behind me is getting closer and closer and I don't want to stop, but I do. I don't stop because I was instructed, though, I stop because I've reached an enormous gate that leads to the side of the house - the side where Ciel is.

I can still see him, now staring back up at the sky. He looks sad and it only makes my adrenaline pump faster and faster because I want to get to him and take all of his troubles away. He seems uninterested in the event, he's in a state of undress as well, and thankfully his robe is so bright that I never lose sight of him.

"Get over here right now - turn around!"

My eyes finally detach from him and I look up to see the side of the manor which blocks me. The enormous stone walls are blanketed with an overgrowth of vines, and I trace the vegetation up to the roof.

I can climb that.

One second my feet are safely on the ground, and the next second I have my soles digging into the vines that grip the side of the estate. My pants are loose from the run and I can feel them start to fall lower, but it's not because of my missing belt - it's because someone has a hold of me.

The muscles in my arms tense so hard that I grunt and I climb only about six feet off of the ground before the pulling of my slacks causes me to lose my grip and slide down. My fingers claw into the vines and I'm relentless as I attempt to keep my balance.

It seems more men have come to get me and right when I feel someone latch onto my shirt I scream some more.

"Ciel!  _CIEL_!" My voice bursts out of me and my right arm is violently ripped from the wall, my shirt going with it. I let them keep the shirt as they tear it off my other arm as well, and I finally clasp both hands back in front of me, my short-sleeves revealing my upper arms to the freezing temperatures.

"Tackle him before he escapes!"

Brutal hands now wrap around my legs and it is in that time when I am brought down, ripped away from the chance to reach Ciel. My back crashes into the arms of two men and they place my hands behind my waist and hold me back. I can feel myself getting angry as I still look up at that balcony, but what really makes me snap is when I watch Ciel place his hands in his head and turn around, disappearing into the glow of the room as if he was merely an apparition.

"CIEL! CIEL, NO! WAIT, WAIT PLEASE! CIEL!"

"Sir, the guests are beginning to talk!" One of the guards who is holding me back questions his superior, and I can feel the veins in my neck begin to thump as my only chance slips right through my fingers. There's no way I can see him now.

"CIEL!" I scream again as I'm dragged backwards and I notice that I am being taken away from the front of the manor to the side of the house. My arms flex and my body falls dead and the two men struggle to move me even another inch.

"Rgh! C-come on! We can't move him, he's too strong, agh!"

My shoulders jerk and I free my arms, only to have my back cracked by the swift smack of what I could only guess is a club, although it feels like a bat. I grunt, but the pain is nothing compared to the stamina I have.

"You! Listen to me!" A bald man gets right in my face and grabs jaw with his enormous hand. He's dressed in a suit and seems almost as angry as I, yet he doesn't intimidate me.

"P-please, sir, please I need to see Ciel Phantomhive, I must see him right now!" Every word I say is growling out of me and I look him in the eyes so he knows I am serious. He glances at the scar on my mouth, the bruise below my eye, and the clothes that I am wearing, and then releases my face. I inwardly wince at my own actions and start shaking my head no because I know what he's going to do.

"Take him to the cellar, boys. He can stay in there while we contact the police, we can't have all the guests seeing this - Vincent would kill me."

"NO! No, no wait! I know Ciel, I know him, please! I would never hurt him, I'm not a criminal please contact Ciel, please!"

The three ignore me completely as they forcefully drag me along the side of the estate. Away from that balcony, away from Ciel. We come upon an enormous wooden door that's almost the size of a car and it seems to me like its some sort of garage.

"Stop! Please call Ciel! He will understand! Just call him before you call the police, I beg you!"

"If you keep talking it'll only make it worse. We'll try to contact him so please come this way..."

One of the men opens the metal latch and pushes the door wide open. There is a stone wall right in front of us, and a long staircase that winds down until there is no light. I swallow as I'm being taken step by step, and my eyes dart back and forth and then up to the ceiling when we reach the last step.

I can hear muffled music, classical music, as if an orchestra is playing not too far above us. The enclosure causes the sound to echo ever so slightly, and I can only surmise that this cellar rests right beneath the dining room or dance floor, or wherever rich people set up their musical guests for the night, I've no idea.

My heart beats wildly at the image of Ciel that I've burned into my eyes, and when another wooden door is unlocked and opened I almost feel it stop thumping completely.

I am thrown into this illuminated cellar and it's, for the lack of a better word - amazing. There are shelves upon shelves of bottles of wine, it's enormous, it's exquisite. It's extremely, unimaginably elegant. There is a marbled sink to my right with a wall of beautifully crafted mirrors behind it, and the entire room is circular in shape, causing my eyes to trace back around to the men who threw me in here.

"If you break ONE bottle you will pay for it! Don't touch a THING, understand me?" The bald man speaks seriously and I swallow at his words because it seems I will be trapped here for who knows how long.

Speech momentarily leaves me and I immediately panic when they close the door to the cellar. There is a narrow window about a foot in length above the lock, and I practically squash my face into it and beat against the door with my fists.

"W-wait! Wait I know him! I'm – WAIT. His therapist, I'm his – HOLD ON! Sebastian, I'm Sebastian – his therapist, PLEASE TELL HIM, PLEASE! I need to see him!"

My words are all jumbled and frantic and I can't control how they come out because I'm scared. They fumble out from my lips and my eyes focus on one of the men who is last to go up the steps. I stop breathing all together so I can hear what they're saying yet the only thing I hear makes me panic even worse.

" _I dunno, he said something like he knows Master Ciel's therapist? Some therapist named Sebastian_?"

That's not…I didn't say that, no.

"NO.  _My_  name is Sebastian!  _I'm_  his therapist! I'm Sebastia-"

I cut myself off because I hear the loud thud of the first door I came in through and all I can do is close my eyes and rest my forehead against the small window, pressing my skin hard against it.

Surely this won't be too much of a mix-up. At the mention of my name Ciel will come to me, won't he? He'll know something is wrong and want to know who I am as the statement itself doesn't even make sense…right?

Ciel, please. Please come down here. I've acted reckless, so unlike myself because you make me go crazy like this. I need to see you, I want to make everything up to you. I'm so so sorry.

"Ciel…" I give up and turn around, my back thudding against the wooden door and sliding all the way down until I'm sitting right on the floor.

I guess the only thing I can do is wait here for him to come. I'll wait as long as it takes.

* * *

After minutes of staring lethargically into the frigid night sky I finally disrobed and sunk myself into the scorching-hot oasis of the bathtub in the en suite of my old room. I'm here staring at the steam that rises from the surface of the water and I can't help but feel empty here in my parent's lavish estate. I feel lost.

I raise my left ankle and lazily let my wet leg hang over the curved lip of the expensive porcelain tub, desperate for a change in position. I can hear the water as it drips from my skin, yet I feel no difference in temperature. My long hair is soaked as it sticks to my throat but I can barely feel that either. I feel no sensations. I feel nothing.

The curse of this apathy is so vexing that all I want to do now is feel  _something_ , anything. When I had Sebastian my life was engrossed with emotion, it was so satisfying, fulfilling - it was amazing. I fanned our passionate flames and then ended up burning and charring everything we once had like some sick self-loathing arsonist with a match in one hand and fuel in the other. I was a criminal to our future and I stole every ounce of hope for us to ever, ever continue.

I thought I could live without him but my ego made me weak. It made me believe that I had worth, that I could be desired, wanted, loved. I remember back when I resided on that fickle cusp of trust, when I had the audacity to doubt myself, to doubt the situation. I fed myself lies and they were so poisonous to me that it was as if I was purposely harming myself. I was childish in my actions to seek him out and I never should have done such a dangerous thing. I know this now, and yet, I feel like I still haven't learned my lesson - because all I do is think of him still, to this very minute. To this very second.

He does to me what the sun does to the snow, what the day does to the night, he burns me, he sets me on fire, he scalds me with the heat of mere thoughts of his touch. I melt at the sound of his voice, I am illuminated when he is before me. I'm different when he is simply around me and to think that I took all of that for granted makes my blood boil completely. It ignites these feelings of hatred deep within me and makes me want to be no more. I want to turn to ash, I want to spread into the air and disintegrate and never be seen again because to live without the only spark in my life would only leave me destitute and useless, a shell of who I once was.

I truly wonder - did he hold Alois gently? Did he whisper words dripping with desire right into his ears as he towered over him, as he...

"Ugh..."

God. I can't even imagine the sight yet alone ponder the intricacies of how the two made love without feeling a sensation in my gut like I want to vomit my intestines out. It makes me smack my tongue against my teeth as if the thought has left a bad taste in my mouth and it does. Why do I keep doing this to myself? Why won't this end?

It hurts now. One second I am numb, the next I am sensitive to even the air around me. I am not well. I am in pain physically and mentally, emotionally. To be blanketed by the hot embrace of the water simply pains me even more as I fear leaving this makeshift womb could only do me harm. I don't want to leave it, I want to be here forever. I want to live here, I want to die here.

The water settles into place when I submerge my leg back into the tub and I recline, my jaw kissing the ripples which splash against my skin. I close my eyes and I do the only thing I know how to do, the only thing I want to do, the one thing I was  _born_  to do – which is think of him even more.

My mind is plagued by his face as it's been for five whole months. His body hard, his flesh warm. Voice so deep it rattles my heart within the confines of my bones, thumping the reminder of smooth-spoken words so tender they made me weak, made me go crazy. He worked me head to toe and I liked it, I loved it, I was addicted to it. While I let my mind fill with the passion of his forceful hands shoving in between my legs, I carelessly let him shove his desires deep down into my throat as well. And god how he fed me. He fed me life, energy, excitement - purpose. He fed me the promise of his presence and so stupidly I ate it up, believing that he would stay with me no matter what, yet he did the complete opposite - and it made me go insane.

Dreaming of him night after night, week by week, month by month, it never ended, those nights of sweat and solitude. Each period of time interrupted with bouts of actual sanity and accomplishments, meaning - these mundane events seemingly forcing normalcy upon me. This sordid obsession, this love sickness that's spread throughout me and overtaken every vital function I possess. It's a cancer that eats away at my weakened flesh and when I realize that I will never see him or touch him or taste him ever again the disease grows rapid and uninhibited as if out of control. It consumes me – it spreads like wildfire.

I glance at my lavish surroundings and I can feel a presence a few feet away, someone daring to traverse the manor to specifically get to me. I lift my head slightly out of the water and blink, waiting for the person to encroach on the time I've specifically set aside for myself.

" _Master Ciel, sir, I apologize for the interruption…"_  


The muffled voice which comes from behind the door is familiar and as my body remains still my tired eyes slide over towards the sound, startling me slightly. It's the steward. There is a light knock that follows the statement but I know no matter what that I cannot be interrupted. I could never be seen like this.

" _There is an issue down on the main floor which needs your attention, sir_ …" he presses me and I can't ignore it.

"State your business…" I shake the words out from my throat and the water beneath me sways against the flesh of my thighs when I place my knees to my chest, seemingly protecting myself from I don't even know what.

" _There was an uninvited guest who attempted to seek entry into the manor, sir. We've apprehended him and placed him in the cellar as we wished not to interrupt your parents_.  _The man also asked for you specifically…_ "

An intruder, how becoming of the night to interrupt my loathing. I close my eyes and process everything I just now heard and the only thing that makes me falter is the last part of the servant's sentence. It confuses me and I'm not sure I heard him correctly.

"For whom did he ask?"

" _For you, sir. He is a very frantic man it seems, he even climbed the side of the estate to see you, we had to rip him right from the wall itself. I wanted you to pay him a visit before we call the authorities, as he wishes for your presence."_  


I swallow dryly, thinking that it could only be one person and one person alone. The person who would sneak into my parent's property like a vile criminal and ruin our affair with no shame whatsoever. The only man I know who would love to throw his actions in my face, to beat me down even more than I already am. The man who successfully caused my internal demise and my mental fallout and everything else that has gone wrong with me in the past year. Alois Trancy, the way you worm yourself into my life makes me sick. It makes me shake with disgust.

"Did the man say anything? What is his name?"

I wait with nothing save the sound of the water settling ringing softly in my ears. The pause is too long for my desperation and my eyes begin to shift back and forth as if I'm trying to search for the cause of this hesitation.

" _He was saying so many things, sir, that I could not personally catch a name from him. All I understood was a single statement from the man before I rushed on over to you_ …"

"And what was the statement?" My voice cracks slightly because I feel frightened of the answer, I feel nervous and unsure of what I will hear escape through the wall of the door and penetrate my ears. I don't want the answer, yet I need to know. I don't want to hear it, yet it must be said.

" _The way he was screaming was quite hysterical, so we are not sure if those were his is exact words, but, he claimed to know your therapist, sir. Someone named…Sebastian? It seems he is the friend of your doctor I'm guessing..."_  


A choked out cough gurgles up from my throat when I hear the name and I shut my eyes so tight that I see red. A friend of my doctor.  _A_   _friend of my doctor?_ No. No, no, NO.  **NO**!

My knees lifelessly submerge themselves into the steaming water below and my wet palms cover both of my eyes as I lay my head in my hands. That feeling where your nose and lips and eyebrows tense and distort into this prelude of emotion before you begin to sob overtakes every muscle in my face yet I remain soundless in this cocoon of warmth.

" _Master Ciel, are you alright?"_  


My nails dig into my forehead and I can feel my whole body begin to tremble for what seems like the millionth time. What did I do to deserve this never ending punishment? This man has tortured me physically and mentally and I don't understand why he is not satisfied with that. Is he not sated with the fact that he bruised me inside and out? That he ripped my heart right from my body and spat on it by laying claim on the only man I've ever loved? What purpose does he have to do such vicious things to me! Why is he not happy with the way he has ruined me?! Does he realize that I did not eat nor sleep nor function as any normal person would after the things he did to me?! I've given him everything I could is it not enough? Is there more? Does he want it  _all_?! I will surely give it to him if he wishes it as he has stolen everything else from me anyway, that foul, wretched man, as if I would ever want to be in the same  _room_  as him! As if I would want to meet his eyes, I detest him! I will give him what he wants but there is no way I will ever,  _ever_  see him again!

Every muscle in my body tenses and I swallow hard before I give my order, my breath so unstable that I cough roughly into my wrists.

"I…I do  _not_  wish to see him – call the police and take him away."

" _Are you positive, sir? Perhaps you would want to see him only for a minu-"_  


"I do not believe my order was unclear! Take him away, get him out of the estate, remove him from the property this INSTANT do you hear me? He is a criminal! Question me once more and I will be sure your position is stripped right from you!"

My bottom lip quivers and I can feel hot streams of tears flowing down my cheeks. There is a slight pause and all I want is to be left alone, I need him to leave, I do not want anyone near me I need to be confined with just my solitude and I grow desperate as each second passes.

" _As you wish, sir. I apologize for the intrusion. The authorities will be called immediately, I assure you that we will handle the matter. Please excuse me."_  


And with those final words I hear the man leave, his heavy footsteps hurrying towards his destination, each thud I hear calming me more and more as the sound drifts off into nowhere in particular. I don't even want to think of it, I don't want to hear of it or know of it! I do not want this anymore, I do not  _need_  this anymore! Someone help me before I help myself to the deficiencies of men and me and everything in between. I can't do this, I can't even entertain the thought!

To be doused in this tub of water that soaks my every limb causes me to only sink lower and lower until I can feel like I am human again, until I can hear the rushing in my ears and feel the pressure envelop me like a vice. Absorb my burdens and release me from the constraints of this wicked life, for I'm too fragile to fight. It's my only choice, it's the only proper punishment for someone such as I. I want everything to be muffled and muted, non-existent. I don't want to hear nor speak nor feel.

I've run out of everything and I've nothing left, I'm empty, I'm vacant. I've lost the liberty of living and it finally hits me after five months time – there's nothing I can do anymore.

I want to be adrift and at peace, alone, asleep.

My body sinks below the loving blanket of the water and I open my eyes as my head immerses itself completely, forgetting problems past. I see the dark strands of my hair curl and waver and float so lifelessly, so beautifully before me. I'm mesmerized by their motions and it lulls me into this forced serenity – this tranquil peace.

My breath bubbles out of me and I fall victim to constriction.

To have these problems over with, to be done…

…to be comfortably numb.

..

* * *


	21. Chapter 21

"Time of death - 9:23PM."

* * *

Such horrifyingly unfamiliar words fog my conscience like smooth, thickened smoke. The veiled sound is absorbed rather than heard, and I feel this ethereal, almost toxic high that leaves me bewildered and confused and trapped in its chemically-induced wake.

I feel weightless. Empty. Cold. I hear these voices yet I can't see who they come from. I can't see anything at all now that I think about it, not colors or shapes or light. There is nothing here, yet everything is all around me. I exist and so do they, yet the validation of either is something that can't be proven. All that envelopes me is this darkness, this darkness that I am sinking into that's pulling me way, way down, engulfing me completely. Down where, though? Does direction even exist, does time adhere to its set rules, am I occupying space, is my being as an individual acknowledged? I hear myself think, yet I am brainless, body-less, soulless. There is another voice, and before I begin to question if I'm even alive, the sound drifts right by me.

"No! No god no PLEASE! Not Ciel, not my baby!"

My mother's voice. It's so foggy and muffled and faint that I second-guess even hearing it in the first place. Are these sounds merely my thoughts? Am I creating them? Am I manifesting these words on my own accord, or do they exist separately in some other realm parallel to my own?

"Rachel, stop...please. There's nothing we can do now."

My father - he is in pain, wherever it is he may be. His voice is trembling, I wonder why? I remember hearing his voice crack only once in my entire lifetime, and that was when my mother fell ill. I might have been around five or six, I'm not even sure, but I recall her being bed-ridden for months. With a glass of red wine in his hand he slumped over that enormous desk in his office and I just happened to walk by, the conversation between he and the doctor an innocent passerby to my juvenile ears. I remember the exact second when he lost it, when he choked out a word and simultaneously gurgled out a sob, unable to control his elite composure. It broke my heart. It made me respect him more, it made him human - it made me love him, for I finally realized he would give his life to keep his family intact.

This is what he sounds like as his speech echoes around my atmosphere, a strange recollection of sound waves that seem to pierce right through me with merely the wavering of his voice. It's almost warm, comforting - until something more dreadful, more frightening suddenly interrupts the world around me.

"Hmm, he deserved it. Only low-class, insignificant people commit suicide. How disgusting, so embarrassing."

I am suspended in this otherworldly limbo when this sudden perturbation of my being renders me completely vacant of all thought. One moment I am experiencing this memory of my father and the next it's as if that memory has been completely burned to the ground, rendered to ash, to dust, to nothing, as if it never even existed.

"Your son was weak and fragile, Vincent - he was useless. Too bad he didn't off himself sooner, it would have saved everyone the trouble."

I exude this frightening aura as I lie dormant in this abnormal state. The voice I hear is menacing, it's evil and malicious and it makes me want to break free from this captive embrace. I want to move yet I don't know where my limbs are, where my body rests, I can't feel a thing. As if it couldn't get any worse these voices start to grow in intensity and volume and speed. They come shooting at me louder and louder and I grow frantic at the invasion of sound.

"Ciel, he was just a spoiled rich kid. Kind of knew this would happen."

No, no. Wait.

"Phantomhive killed himself? Oh my, I bet his mother is next in line you know how weak she is…"

I need to leave this place, why is this happening? These voices keep bombarding me, they attack me one after the other, they're hurting me.

"His father too, he's useless without his own son. They'll all be six feet under soon."

What?

"I heard Ciel sliced his wrists open, is it true?"

No, where did… _wait_.

"Is it true he blew his brains out?"

Who are these people…

"Dead at 27, what a cliché."

Please…

"Ciel, baby, what happened?"

The sudden voice of my mother is mixed in with all this spite. It pulls me, it feels like I am grabbing hold of something yet I possess no hands or arms or flesh. I feel like I'm being reeled from this primordial soup of negativity and the world around me speeds by faster and faster like I'm a bullet ejected from the barrel of a warm gun.

"Ciel, we'll miss you."

My father's voice echoes around me once again.

"Ciel, Ciel!"

I'm traveling faster and faster.

"Ciel!"

Who is it?!

"Ciel!"

"Ciel!"

"Ciel!"

I feel like I'm about to explode into a billion pieces and I become frantic, frightened of my future. My name is called over and over by nameless individuals and the sound influences my heightened state of mind. I want it to end already. I need it to stop, I  _need_  it to disappear.

"Ciel!"

Stop - stop.  _STOP_!

… …

The voices cease all at once and I feel like I am about to vomit up my insides, if I had insides. The deafening silence scares me and it's like I've been thrown into the eye of this torturous hurricane of insanity. I am no longer being pulled up and instead I float weightlessly again, captured in this abhorrent fabric of existence. I suddenly begin to feel constricted, restrained, crushed; I feel like my life is going to wither up and end right this second. After this moment everything will disappear. I'll never take another breath, I'll never see my family - I'll never love again. I feel the death of self drawing near, I feel it sucking me in now, taking me quickly and without restraint.

Until I finally hear the faintest voice.

"… _Ciel_ "

...Sebastian...

It's Sebastian.

It's his voice. I hear it in my head, I sense it all around me – I feel it in my veins, on my skin, on my body.

I finally feel my body.

I feel my eyes roll around in my sockets and then I finally feel the reality of the environment that I've fallen victim to.

I'm drowning.

I'm drowning and I can  _feel_  it.

* * *

"AUGH! HAH. F-FAH."

My eyes burst open into consciousness and my mouth is wide and agape as I start to violently cough while I remain submerged under water. Bubbles of my last breath gurgle out of me and almost instantly my torso convulses and jerks awake. My head lifts from its burial of water, my vision unfocused and blurry, my chest heaving as I feel warm liquid slide up my esophagus and shoot right out of me.

I cough so loud that it's the first thing I hear blasting through my ears, influencing my attempt to leave the watery tomb that almost became the death of me. My shaky fingers grasp the cool edge of the tub and I hunch over it, my ribs crunching against the expensive porcelain.

The sound of the water slapping against the tile floor now supersedes my gurgling throat, and as everything is expelled out of me I let out large heaving breaths of the life that I almost stripped right from me. My eyes focus on the puddle beneath me and I try to move my legs but they're weak as they lay rest under the blanket of steaming hot water.

My thighs shake as do my arms, and I remain hunched over as I try to recall the stupidity of my actions. As I drifted off into near-death I recollected the importance of my lineage, my family, my blood. I would never want to do something so inane and selfish, something that could hurt them for life. No, I am better than that, they deserve better, I'm all they've got. To disappoint them would mean I'd be a failure, and that is something I could never accept. My father, my mother, it was so vivid despite the distortion of it all, and then, right when I thought it would all cease to exist...there came Sebastian.

As if my brain was trying to bash my reasons for living right into me I thought of him, and so he appeared. Not his image, or his body or his smell but his voice. The one thing about him that has always made me go absolutely crazy. He spoke only a word, but my favorite of course, and when my name was said in that smooth voice of his I could only yearn for sentience and being - existence. I succumbed to the throes of defeat while on the precipice of madness yet he spoke life back into me, he spoke motivation and control, he awakened me from my own turmoil and rescued me.

Ahh, god, I am disastrously in love with that man.

Even though he has someone I still pine for him. I feel that desire when I think of him and I swallow my own heart as it wildly raps against my chest when I recall our time together. It's been over five months yet I can't escape him and it hurts me. I'd ask myself how long it would take to expel him from all of my memories but even the thought of something so wretched would never even come to fruition. I  _want_  to think of him, I  _want_  to remember his touch, his smell, his voice...I need him, even if only in memory.

But oh how I would give anything just to see him once more. Just for a minute, a second even, anything. I would do anything.

"Sebastian..." the words rasp out from the confines of my sore throat and I lift my heavy eyelids to look at the door to the bathroom. I sigh as I try to collect myself and stare at it for a few seconds, reworking the memories of my mind. My eyebrows twist in thought and I let out an angered breath when I focus on the elaborate brass of the doorknob. My brain is being repaired from the damage I so carelessly caused, and I finally remember what the steward informed me of only moments ago.

Alois Trancy is here - in my house. On  _my_ territory. On a day that my parents have been looking forward to all year long. On a night such as this that holds such weight of importance how dare he. Acting frivolously, coveting my man, intruding as he pleases, wreaking havoc on my life.

I don't fucking think so. That vagrant trespasser, how dare he show himself on Phantomhive grounds. How dare I not do anything about it! I'm such a fool, attempting to hurt myself when I could so easily damage this disgusting rat of a man. Alois, I hope you're still down in that cellar, in  _my_  cellar - because I am coming for you. I am going to hurt you just as you've hurt me.

I'm going to ruin you.

This adrenaline begins to pump through my veins the angrier I get, and I muster all of my strength and finally lift myself from the steaming bath. My body feels weak and my flesh has been soaking so long that it's tender and supple, and as I lift my wobbly legs over the curve of the tub I slap my wet palm onto the wall for safety.

"Ugh, come on..." I give myself a few words of encouragement as I grab my white robe from the floor. The soft cotton surrounds my wet skin and I tie it tightly against my waist. With one foot carefully stepping in front of the other I walk towards the door, hesitant as I try to keep balance.

The mirror by the sink catches my attention only for a split second, and I can't help but witness the condition I am in. Despite this thick robe my waist seems so frail and tiny, smaller than I'm comfortable with. My hair has grown long enough to curl into thin locks over my ears, and I'm soaking wet. My eyes are red from moping around for hours and the dark circles under them are nothing to be proud of. I'm a mess, I'll have to take the back way to the cellar, and there is no time for me to change - I have to get to him before the police arrive.

It's easy to pull myself away from my reflection and I do it in a heartbeat, focusing all of my attention on trying to get my limbs to move without restraint. I finally grab the doorknob and push forward, birthing myself from the confines of this steamy tomb and bursting out into the real world.

The air is cool and my lungs expand and contract so hard that I feel like I'm hyperventilating. I don't care that I'm drenched and naked under this robe, I have no time to look presentable or normal or sane, even. With each step I garner more and more strength, and I soon find myself racing down the stairs.

Soft sounds of conversation and music can be heard off in the east wing, and I carefully keep my distance from the festivities. This manor is so enormous that only half of it is being used for the event, and the other half is closed-off just for the staff. When I reach the bottom of the staircase I look to my left and then to my right, deciding to exit through the library that rests closest to the cellar. My fingers clench the fabric of my robe and I run as fast as I can, the thumping of my heart working in tandem with the thuds of my naked feet.

"S-sir Ciel! Are you alright?!"

Just as I enter the enormous double-doors to the library a voice stops me right in my tracks. My vision is focused on the back door nestled between two enormous floor to ceiling bookcases, and I speak without turning my head.

"All is well…please go back to your normal duties and mention this to no one."

My voice is shaky and it takes so much out of me to try and remain calm. I hear the servant hesitate as he takes a step toward me, and I turn my head to him, glaring in response. I'm not sure if it's the sight of my disheveled appearance or the rude way in which I'm acting, but it stirs his movements and he nods repeatedly as if frightened by my state.

"Thank you." I let out my emotionless gratitude and turn away from him, running once again.

I'm nervous. I'm frantic. I'm so eager it hurts.

Shelves upon shelves of books rush past me as I run but all I can do is focus on that door. I'm thinking of Alois' face, his body, his voice. Everything in existence that makes me want to explode into a fit of rage. His fucking smarmy mouth, his vile tongue, I can't wait to knock his crooked fucking teeth out. I'm going to pummel him and beat him and let him beg for his meaningless, useless life. Possessing the audacity to even  _think_  of touching someone I cherish, you will certainly pay for that, Trancy. You will never even think for one millionth of a second of stepping foot in my house  _ever_  again.

You fed me drugs, you took my body unwillingly, you marred my skin and my dignity – you stole Sebastian. What is left? What else do you need to appease your twisted aspirations in life? Show me, tell me you son of a bitch I can't wait to see you. To hear you. To watch you break down just as I did. I'll take from you as you did with me, and I'll take Sebastian back too. You think I'll just hand him over to you? You couldn't be more wrong, Alois. He is  _mine_ , and I can't wait to beat that rule into you over and over again.

"Fuck"

Shit. As my rage was building and I was mindlessly running I just now realized that maybe it was a bad idea to go out in such a state of undress. It's so fucking cold outside that I fear my testicles will retract back into me and I will be rendered a frozen shell of a man.

..

The door to the library shuts behind me and I'm now at the side of the manor, only a few feet away from the entrance to the cellar. It's snowing and it's freezing and my wet hair and skin only intensify this wretched weather.

White vaporous puffs of breath drift out from my panting lips and my bare feet burn as they slap onto frigid concrete. I bundle my fists into my robe and as the hem of the cotton flutters against my knees I seriously start to regret not even putting pants on. With my legs exposed and my body being hastily chilled I start to slow down, unable to keep up my rapid pace.

It's fine now as I finally come upon the large door to the cellar, and I practically throw my body against it as I undo the metal latch. It's freezing cold yet my adrenaline is warming me, knowing that I'll need as much stamina as possible for this approaching fight. My heart thuds against my chest when I push the door open, and I practically race down the spiraling stone staircase.

The deeper I descend the warmer the temperature becomes, as the ideal environment for storing wine is about twenty degrees higher than the storm that settles outside. There's music playing up above, there's darkness all around me. My feet finally fall onto the last slate step and I freeze in shock when I hear a scream. It's not only the scream itself, but it's the voice, it's the word that's spoken.

"CIEL! Ciel!"

My name is chanted over and over and I stare at the door before me. I can't see through the window as I'm still on the staircase, but I see the dim light that shines through it, I see the temptation of affirming who's inside.

The voice makes my composure crumble right before my very eyes and I'm looking around frantically, still unable to move.

"Someone, please! Please get Ciel!"

This can't be right, this can't be happening – this doesn't make sense.

Is it true? Are my ears deceiving me? Is my brain processing this correctly? Am I sane enough to have coherent conclusions as to who this voice is coming from?

It falls quiet once again and I hear the sudden rush of water, as if the sink within the enormous cellar is being used. My mouth is dry and my legs are shaking and as I try to breathe I finally take a step forward, carefully approaching the door.

I slowly lean in and I still my shivering lips, biting them and warming their frozen state with the roll of my tongue. Inch by inch I hold my breath and finally peer into the small window, anxious and scared and nervous at what I'll see. The faint light washes over my wide irises and I'm finally witness to the inhabitant of the room.

I exhale shakily and completely fall apart.

Sebastian, it's him. Sebastian.

  
_Sebastian_.

I observe him, his fervent actions, his erratic, frustrated movements that cause him to almost whine out my name. He's hunched over the sink, almost as disheveled as I, and his long torso is covered only by a thin black undershirt, dirtied by who knows what. His black slacks rest low and belt-less on his hips, slipping down to show off just a flash of his briefs. Those large hands of his are wet as they rake through his locks of hair and he seems agitated and desperate, as if he's been calling out to me for hours.

"Ciel…Ciel please. Someone…"

Be still my heart, my mind, my body. Be calm, be composed, settle down, Ciel. Don't make a sound, don't let him know you're here. I mustn't shake, I mustn't move or shudder or shriek or give away the rattling of my own bones. I can't deal with my emotions, with what I'm feeling or hearing or seeing. I'm enamored and shocked by his mere presence, I'm enraptured by his form, I'm ensnared by the deep, anguished voice that keeps echoing off the walls. I'm frozen in place, I'm confused. I'm breathless. I'm a wreck.

Did I die and go to heaven? Am I still in my dreamlike state? Is this some kind of a joke?

I can't even move yet alone think, and all I'm capable of doing is locking my eyes onto his body. Sebastian, why are you here. Sebastian, you've replaced the devil himself, you've given me my only wish, my only desire, yet I'm not sure as to why you've even graced me with your appearance.

Sebastian, god…you're beautiful, aren't you…look at you.

"Ciel, please come…"

My heart swells when I hear him and it makes me want to burst into tears, it makes me want to scream.

He remains over the sink after he swipes at the tap and he seems tired, he seems angry at being caged in this place like some kind of animal. He has every right to be, and even I'm starting to get a bit agitated at who would put him in here.

As I'm thinking about that my world comes crashing down because I realize that this gorgeous man before me was just with that fucking piece of garbage Alois. Is that why he's here? Is Alois being held elsewhere, did they come here together? For what reason? To play me? To make a fool out of me? Out of my family?

Flashes of Sebastian's belt that was strewn about in his office flicker through my mind. I focus on him and notice as he leans over that he is in a state of undress, like he was ripped away from the afterglow of sex, forced to run after Alois perhaps, who knows. Not I.

It kills me. It mixes all of my emotions, stirring up jealousy, beating down my last shred of trust I held in anything at all.

How does one amass this much heartache, this much gut-wrenching, deep-pitted sorrow within? I'm staring at the only man I've ever loved yet I feel this sadness wash over me as if I would never be able to obtain him. I don't want to just have him, I want him to want me, to need me. Alois keeps invading my thoughts yet who is he calling out to? Me. He's calling me for a reason, isn't he? He wants  _me,_  right? He speaks my name like he yearns for me and that should mean everything but I'm still unsure, I still have this doubt retching within me.

Sebastian's long body straightens and he has his head down as he finally turns towards me. With his face in his hands he leans against the marble sink and I see only a flicker of his lips.

My heart practically bursts out of my chest.

Those lips, that mouth, his voice, his throat, I'm obsessed with all of them. His face is worthy, his body expensive, his presence is priceless as he sinks deeper into distress. I am rich beyond my means yet he makes me feel cheap and slovenly, as if he's too good for me and maybe he is. Maybe he knows it, maybe that's what he came here to tell me? Maybe I'm wrong and I'm just frantic in my thoughts.

I can't even think straight anymore.

"Ciel…"

He continues to call out to me and I just can't take it. Be just, fear not. There is no reason to remain in this state, Ciel. He's right there. Snap out of it - you can do this, you can overcome these vexing, invalid emotions. Go on, go forth, set your hands upon the door and let him hear you. Let him know you're here, you can do it.

With confidence building I rest my palms against the wood of the door and I'm desperate now too, because I want him to look at me. I want him to see me, I need him to respond and to show me his true reaction, I want to know if he still wants me. If he needs me as much as I need him. I have to do this.

He sulks and it kills me, my lips cold and quivering as I open my mouth, trying so hard just to say his name.

"S-sebastian…"

My voice is raspy and low, so low that he doesn't hear me, so I try again, this time pushing against the door with all the strength I have in me.

"Sebastian!"

I jerk the heavy door as hard as I can and it clatters in its enormous frame. My voice cries out to him. My heart is racing. My eyes are transfixed and when he hears me, when he hears my voice, when he hears his own name – he suddenly looks up, revealing his face to me...

…and our eyes meet for the first time in five months.

Time stands still.

The world around us, our environment, our atmosphere, the cells which make up our living, breathing bodies – everything is locked, frozen in time. In space. In the moment. As if we were born to be attracted to each other. There is no sound, no motion, just our eyes. Just our exchange in this validity that we're together once again.

We stare at one another and we don't move a muscle, we don't even breathe. We just drown in the sight of each other and I feel so happy to see him that I might collapse right on the spot.

"…I…Ciel, I…"

He's in shock and only then do I wonder if he can't move because of the state of my appearance. I came here looking to get into a fight but instead I'm struck with the arrow of love itself and I'm rendered completely helpless to the way I look. My hair is long and messy, wet. My face is pale, my eyes are red, heavy, ugly. I'm in a robe. I have no shoes. I probably look horrid to him, don't I.

But then again...his face is different, too. He has cuts and bruises, his perfect skin flawed, beaten by who knows what. Who did this to him? Who would lay their hands on such a gentle man? The urge to fight is just something that simply does not exist in Sebastian's character, yet why do I feel like this is somehow my fault? Your perfect lips are bleeding, your cheek is puffy and sore, you take my breath away even more.

We're sucked back into reality when the door at the top of the stairs bursts open and the both of us jerk back, ripped away from the sanctity of our stares.

Heavy feet race down the concrete steps and in a split second I feel hands on my shoulders, pulling me away from the sight of the most valuable person in the world.

"Be careful, sir. This man is dangerous! What are you doing here, the cops have arrived, please step back!"

"Get away from him!"

Everything is happening so fast and in a split second Sebastian races to the door and slams his fists against it, ordering the servant to unhand me.

I'm trying to process everything I've heard but my body is too weak to fight back so I just wince at the touch of the steward and let him push me away. The man shoves me back and I stumble onto the brick wall and my eyes finally focus on the small window once again.

Sebastian is livid. He kicks at the door and his face is offended by the protective actions of the servant.

"Stop touching him! Ciel, tell him it's okay. Ciel...tell him,  _please."_  


"That's enough from you, you criminal! You're going to jail-"

"Stop it," I find my voice and begin to breathe hard because Sebastian is only a couple of feet away from me yet I'm being told he will be taken away, and I could never  _ever_  let that happen. Not again. He can't leave me again.

"Tell the cops it was a false alarm, hand over the key to the door and don't even think twice about returning here".

"What? But sir, surely you understand that this man tried to-"

"What do you not understand about my order?! Hand over the key and LEAVE. Your presence is not wanted here, nor is it needed so go on, go! Speak with the police and handle the matter and do not return here - do I make myself clear?"

The steward is confused at my demand yet he realizes that there is nothing he can do. I hold out my palm and the key is slowly placed into my waiting, shaking hand. My fingers curl over the cold metal and he clears his throat, breaking the silence.

"What if he hurts you, sir? Your father would not want that."

Sebastian huffs at the accusation and I lick my lips as I stare at him, speaking without thinking, yet saying something that saddens me to such an extent.

"Don't worry, he won't lay a hand on me. I can guarantee it."

My lashes fall as I let my eyes stare at the floor, ashamed of the truth that I just now vocalized. My damp locks frame carelessly around my face, brushing my cheeks with water and cooling my heated skin. I feel embarrassed and uneasy and stupid. The only man to ever reject me is the only man I've ever truly desired, and now he's here again, getting me hot, causing me to shake, to shiver, making me swallow my own heart.

The steward sighs and then dismisses himself, apologizing for his intrusion as he always does. With the nod of my head he ascends up the staircase, and in a few seconds time we're alone once again.

"Ciel...open the door."

"Why are you here?" I still can't look at him and I unconsciously bundle into my robe, dying to obtain any kind of warmth, "I want to know why you're here..."

"Open the door so we can talk, please. Just open the door."

"Answer me first, Sebastian."

"No! Look at me, Ciel. Look at my face. Open the door I need to touch you, I want to hold you please I'm desperate, please. I haven't seen you in so long. Just your face, your hands, anything, I just need to touch you before we even speak,  _please."_  


My heart feels like it's vibrating within my chest it's thumping that fast. His words are potent, his voice is cracking, his frustration so palpable that it would only be so long until he attempts to bust that door right from its frame. He wants me. It's not even the fact that he wants me that gets me, it's the yearning he exudes, the urge he's trying to control. He wants me that bad. He  _needs_  me before he can even think of doing anything else.

He's eager.

"Ciel. I'm so sorry for what I did to you. You never deserved it, god, please open the door. I'm so sorry, I should have listened to you. I need you, I miss you. I want to make it all up to you. Open. Open the door, I'm begging you."

"You're sleeping with Alois." I state my words as fact and finally approach the door. My palms press flat against the wooden surface and I frown because I just can't help but bring up the things that pain me most.

He snarls in response.

"WHAT?! I would never in my life! I almost killed him, I hate him!"

I stare at his angered disposition, my brows knitted in confusion, my mind reeling at his words, "...you what?"

"H-he came to my office as a patient! He mentioned those horrible things he did to you and I snapped I, ugh, I couldn't control myself. I can't control myself when people touch you and that...the things he did to you...rgh, OPEN the door Ciel!"

"No! Idon't believe you!" I shout because I don't understand, I can't comprehend his story and it's making me go crazy.

"He found an article in the paper, I don't know why! I saw him for the first time today and he's in jail now because of what he did! Please open the door, Ciel. If you don't open this door right now I don't know what I'll do..."

Sebastian shakes the door again, threatening its demise in due time if I don't do something about it. His cut lip is bitten by those sharp teeth of his and he is genuine in his actions, breathing over the glass and fogging it up like he's about to explode. His story makes sense yet I'm still confused and unsure. I'm embarrassed even more now if you could even believe it, and my cheeks begin to shamefully heat up, nervous about what he knows.

"Open the door, Ciel, why are you making me crazy like this? I won't do anything to you, I promise. I just want to be in the same room as you, please. I'll explain everything. Please open the door I won't do a thing I won't even touch you I promise, I promise..."

The way his eyebrows slant in worry, the way his hair falls messily all over the place. The dirt on his shirt, the blood on his skin, the way he looks at me like he needs me to breathe. I fall victim to his handsome face and his voice and his frantic actions. I am merely a prisoner to his being, a slave to his words. He binds me and in lieu of my uncertainty I act on his accord instead of my own. Without even thinking the key is immediately inserted into the lock, and I glance back up at him before I turn it.

"Do you...promise you won't do anything until we speak?"

Because I wouldn't be able to take it.

He looks down at the lock and then back at me, and his forehead wrinkles when he says "yes I promise". I know him too well, and I know when he lies, and yet I still turn the key despite his falsified words. He's lying and I don't care, because I need to touch him too, I need to feel him badly, I want to have him on me, I want him to lie right to my face if at anything at all.

The lock clicks, the door violently swings open.

Sebastian acts on instinct; I'm suddenly pulled into the room.

And we touch.

"God..." Sebastian pulls at my wrist and lunges me into his arms, speaking only this. My entire body slams into his chest and he wraps his arms around my head, digging his fingers through my hair and squeezing me so tight that it takes my breath away.

I'm clad in cloth as white as snow and he in black, dark like the still of the night. Our bodies press, the contrast of our clothes, our height, our size, we fit together, we merge as one. My arms lock onto his waist, my face buries into his scent, and the tears come automatically, unwillingly, almost as if they were expelled from the depths of everything I hold true.

He too falls victim to the intensity of our reunion and I shut my eyes tight at the way his torso convulses. He doesn't weep or sob or make even a sound but I can feel him shake and it makes me go crazy.

The room is no more, the cellar we reside in a mere washed-out background to the world only we two inhabit. It's just us, and the tighter we embrace the more surreal it becomes, and I can feel myself growing weak in the knees, unable to bear the weight of my own body as I'm overcome with joy.

He feels me fall and moves his hands from my hair to my hips, jerking me softly as he prevents me from sliding off of him. His long fingers grasp the curve of my back and he's oblivious to the fact that I wear nothing underneath. I feel the hem of my robe ride up my thighs and I latch on to his shirt, digging my face deeper into his chest because I don't know what else to do.

"You liar." I whisper in regards to his broken promise, and he does something that renders me speechless.

Instead of me falling to the floor, it's he who slips away, removing his hold on my waist to get down on both knees. Grabbing each of my hands our fingers soon lace, and he brings our attachment up to his wounded lips. They speak onto my cold knuckles as he looks up at me with those gorgeous eyes, the tears in mine rapidly being blinked away.

"You don't know how sorry I am-"

" _Get up_!" I whisper-yell and try to pull back my arms. He's bigger than me, and god knows he's stronger, and he uses only an ounce of that strength to steady my hands once again.

"No. Listen to me. I've been a mess without you. I regretted telling you to leave, I should have never said that to you, Ciel. I drove to your house, I looked for you. I wanted to see you so bad but I was too hurt and too stubborn to contact you directly."

"Sebastian, okay okay get up - please!" Agh. Why is he doing something so embarrassing it's killing me! It's literally eating away at any and all control I currently possess, causing me to whine out a small groan of disapproval.

"I'm not finished." He kisses my knuckles as he looks right at me and I feel like there's butterflies or birds or bats fluttering around inside of me, dying to escape.

"I wrote your name over and over for five months straight because it was the only thing that would make me feel at ease. I have the notebook if you don't believe me, I'll show it to you if-"

"I believe you! Stop saying these things and get  _up!"_  


"After I left the police station I raced over here as fast as I could. I saw you on the balcony and you took my breath away, seeing you for the first time like that. You made me act like a criminal, I had to get to you but you couldn't hear me. I acted stupidly and tried to climb up the side of your parent's house..."

"Pfft..." I can't help but laugh just a bit and for the first time in who knows how long I smile genuinely. His eyes widen and he smiles too, and the action renders me speechless. The curve of his handsome lips lifting into his cheeks is something that makes my heart skip two beats or three, four or more I'm not sure. It stupefies me, it makes me fawn over him, it makes me want to get on my knees too, just so we can be closer. His smile is so endearing and true, and I bite my bottom lip and try to control myself because he's just that adorable.

"I miss you."

And embarrassing.

He kisses my knuckles again and I die a little inside as he continues to beg me from the disadvantage of the floor. My hair and skin are wet, I'm cold I swear I'm cold but I can feel this heat building from within me, warming me, thawing me out and bringing me to that melting point that only he knows how to achieve.

"When you smile like that it makes me crazy you know. I want to apologize to you for any harm I've caused, Ciel. I want to...I want us, I mean...ah, I don't want you to feel..."

My smile slowly fades and my breathing heightens at his mess of words. He's fumbling and his eyes trace everything in the room as he thinks. He's nervous beyond belief. His palms are sweaty. His speech is shaky. It makes me want to collapse into his arms and grab his perfect face and kiss him all over.

To kiss him, I would die if he would give me the privilege.

"I want you all to myself...I don't care if you're seeing someone, I'm still going to stay here on my knees and beg you because I'm desperate for you. I need you, do you understand me?"

Do I understand he asks. He begs. With my heart in my throat and my hands wrapped in his I practically fall to pieces, crumble in place, melt all over the expanse of the room. I say nothing but all I want to do is have him up off the floor and right in front of me, towering over me like he does, looking down on me with those eyes that practically scream at me to attack him.

I want his lips it's true, I want to touch his face and pull his hair, I want him to grab me and put these words into my mouth, forcing me to comply. I need only this I swear, I can live the rest of my life without anything more just please grant me permission to kiss you, it's all I could ever dream.

"Get up..." I walk backwards, pulling our laced fingers, coercing him to stand. My muscles are weak as I try to yank him from the floor, and when the heels of my feet thud onto the enormous rows of settling wine he finally rises from his place.

I'm transfixed on his face when he stands before me and my eyes slowly roll up, following his every movement as if he would disappear the second I look away. We stare at each other for who knows how long, and I glance at the bruises on his cheek, hating how Alois dared to lay a hand on this beautiful creature.

"Ciel..."

Our fingers detach and my hands immediately lift to press against the curve of his smooth jaw. My digits carefully rub against his marred skin, and I can feel that heat creeping up inside me once more.

"Your lip is cut." My thumb softly grazes over the wound and he tilts his head to the side, letting me do as I please. I can practically feel his frustration building and so is mine, trust me, but I don't want to act too desperate. I don't want to scare him away.

"Ciel, don't ignore me."

"Hm?" I try to control myself, my eyes staring only at those lips of his, at the only thing that I want to possess.

"I said that I want you."

"…I heard you."

With his agitation piqued he grabs my wrist and yanks it away from his face, all while pushing me back into the wood of the shelves behind me. My robe cushions the sharp edges he so carelessly presses me against, and I finally meet his eyes. I'm not deliberately teasing him, I don't want to anger him or make him feel uneasy. I'm doing this for my own sake because I'm just obsessed with the curve of his lips, the shape they create, the temptation they exude. I want them so bad I can't think of anything else.

"Doesn't that mean anything to you? Or do you have someone else?"

He draws closer, our foreheads almost touching, his mouth so close I can only fantasize about tasting it. He drops the hold on my wrist to favor trapping me between his arms like he's so fond of doing, his hands gripping on to the shelf behind me, his body so close I can feel the heat radiating off of him.

As tension thickens I run my tongue over the swell of my bottom lip and stare right at him, slowly shaking my head, answering obediently.

"I have no one. You were the last person I ever touched. In these five months I haven't had a hand laid on me. Not even my own."

The orchestra above us plays as if we're under water and it's the only sound in the room as he takes his time to process the meaning of my words. It's true, though, I would never lie to him. I haven't been touched at all, his lips were the last I kissed, his hands were the final impression my skin ever felt.

"What about you?" I whisper and we both start breathing harder, just enough to notice, just enough so we can gauge where we both want this to go.

"I thought about you every day…" he looks down, his lashes covering those beautiful eyes, and my next breath is now destined to be lodged within my throat when he finally looks back up at me. The slow movement of his eyelids opening makes my heart beat faster and faster and I finally take that breath I've been holding for what seems like an eternity.

"…and every night."

_Shit._

I swallow. Hard. So hard that my tongue smashes against my teeth, so hard that my chin lifts just so I can ease my throat. This infatuation turned obsession in regards to everything he encompasses makes me want to scream. But wait, is it true? My words were just as cryptic as his yet so blatant that there is no second-guessing what he meant. He thought about me at night and what of it? Did he dream of me? Did he fantasize about me? Surely he meant otherwise, and the truth lies in the fact that he pictured me while trapped in the throes of pleasure, every night, it was my image which assisted his release.

No, no. Be calm, steady yourself, Ciel, stop fabricating the definition of his words when you know not what they meant. How dirty can the mind of a man so innocent actually be? His gentle nature, his doting expressions, he's virginal indeed and he's kept to his chastity and there is no way I will ever even think of stripping that from him. I'm a changed man, I'm untouched, I lack the drive, I would never want to hurt him. He must have meant something else, of course. How stupid of me to jump to such a conclusion. I'm sorry Sebastian, for my mind has sullied your innocence once again. Forgive me, please, I beg of you. Let me look down to the floor to show you my remorse. I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

"Ciel, hey. Look at me. Does it bother you… that I touched myself while thinking about us together?"

Pardon? What was that you just said? What words just fumbled out between those ungodly lips? Has my hearing gone now, has my heart ceased to beat and this is an untrue world, a mere figment of my imagination? No, no this is  _real_. His deep voice is so real it makes my muscles shake, his piercing eyes see right through me. Those words were true it was no misconception, Ciel, get a hold of yourself, get a grip on reality for he just said he used you, YOU, to awaken that mass between his legs.

God.  _Help me_.

Help me because I'm about to lose it.

"No, no, of course not..." my face feels like it's set aflame and he looks at me like he wants to eat me alive. I stare at him like I want him to.

I close my eyes, trying hard to breathe, trying to compose my frantic thoughts. There's only one thing I can do after admitting something so lewd, so I lean my head back into the rows of wine and lick my lips, tempting him to act out his fantasies, offering myself over to him completely.

He takes to me and tackles me against the shelf, both of his hands moving to latch onto my hips - our faces now lip to lip.

In the slowest, most agonizingly painful motion – he finally kisses me. He kisses me. Sebastian, the man of my dreams kisses me.  _Me_. Softly at first, and then harder than I could have ever imagined.

As if unable to control himself his mouth pushes against mine and our jaws finally open, a moan escaping from his throat being fed right into me. The second he slides his tongue over mine has my arms wrapping around his neck, and I feel like I'm being lifted from the ground and being lunged into some otherworldly euphoria.

He squeezes my waist, I rub against his tongue, and our lips open and close in our sultry attachment. I can feel his breath on my cheek, I can taste the blood from his wound, the flavor of his lips, the smell of his hair, his skin, his sweat. I'm overflowing with senses and he keeps moaning into my mouth and I soon find his left hand sliding lower onto my side.

Another forceful pull from his other wandering hand has my lower half jerking forward, my shoulders shoved into the shelf, my hips sticking out, and he rewards his rough actions by sucking on my tongue. I'm getting dizzy from desire and now I can't help but moan too, but it comes out as a long, drawn-out whine that he steals from deep within my throat.

"Hah" I gasp as he drags the tip of his tongue over each and every taste bud I possess. I feel our lips shift when he angles his head the other way and his breath is heavy like wants more. Right when I hear the suckling of our kiss ringing in my ears that hand that's sliding down lower and lower transcends the hem of my robe and hitches the cloth right up over my thigh. It doesn't just hitch up, it gets yanked up, pulled so hard that it shocks even me.

He hisses when his hot palm drags against my naked skin as if scalded by my temperature and he gropes me hard, mauling my flesh with the clamp of his latching fingers. He stops kissing me and grunts, acting like the man that I know he can be, and I knock my head back and watch him through lidded eyes. His face is red like I'm burning his lips, singeing his hand and you know what I am, because he starts to fucking sweat like I'm working him out.

The weather outside is cold and wet, but we're frozen in time here in this room and it's summer again. It's humid and hot - it's sticky and fuck how it's sweet. His jaw presses against my throat, his tongue practically in my ear when his hips start to move and his voice starts to shake.

"Ciel, I can't control myself." He implores, I try to breathe.

I stroke his back and then his neck and finally dig my fingers into his hair, pulling it because I'm getting hard for the first time in forever and I don't know what to do with myself. I'm not the same manic addict I was before so I actually want to take this slow because he deserves it, I deserve it, and I want him to initiate it all. I want him to have all the power.

"Ngh, fuck..." I yank his hair and speak through clenched teeth when his hand moves from my upper-thigh to the swell of my ass. He doesn't just grab it he claws at it and squeezes it, jamming his fingers into my skin and grabbing muscle I barely even have.

"I don't like this robe." His speech is angry, visceral, like my clothing betrayed him and his kin and everyone he ever loved. He tugs at it like an animal and starts grinding into me and I finally feel that dick of his drag up into the knot of my robe.

"I don't like it either," I breathe out and moan when his mouth latches onto my throat,  _"_ I fucking hate it".

My flesh is soft and supple from the steaming bath but he couldn't care any less when sinks his teeth right into my throat, biting me hard as he yanks the side of my robe off the curve of my shoulder. I'm trying to imagine what he's been through these past five months and wonder if all his aggression has been left pent up and unused. Take it out on me, Sebastian. Bite me harder, smash my back up against the wall, spread my legs, do whatever you want to me because I'm all yours now.

His hot tongue rolls around on my Adam's apple and the back of my head sinks deeper into the rows of bottles behind me, knocking the glasses into one another. He suckles my skin, he kisses me, he murmurs onto my throat and I wish I could understand what he was saying but everything's happening so fast and I can't believe how eager he is and my hearing is wavering as much as my sight and my strength.  _Oh god_.

When my skin is revealed he loses it and even the hand on my ass favors the removal of my robe now. With both heated palms he parts the front of the cloth until my chest is bare and open to him. His hands slide down to my ribs and the robe slips off of both of my shoulders, hanging loose and useless around my waist.

"You're soft," he grunts to himself as his lips slide down my chest, his wet tongue licking me all over, "and you smell so good".

Ugh, shut up. God please my mind is so foggy I'm so dizzy I can't even comprehend his actions right now. His hips keep pushing into me, his sex being dragged up and down over my upper thigh and I can't even explain how hard he is. He's fucking solid.

My eyes fall down to his busy lips and I watch as he flips his tongue back and forth over my left nipple. He circles it, slathering it in saliva as I moan like I want more, and my weakened whine forces both of his hands to slide to my lower back, underneath my robe. His fingers press against my skin and he keeps going until each palm is full with the flesh of my ass. He squeezes it hard, which isn't a surprise, and he starts to bite me now, intentionally being loud as he sucks me, deliberately making me hornier than I could ever even imagine becoming.

I'm starting to get that urge to be taken, and I wonder how far he's going to go with this. Will he stop before things get too serious? Will he let me see him, will he let me ogle that perfect body of his, will he let me touch it? Will we get that release we're both aching for? Maybe we'll just fool around as he's still so innocent, so disconnected from such sinful acts. I'm fine with anything. I want him all but even if he only gave me this I would be satisfied because he is here and so am I, his hands are on me, his mouth, his eyes, his breath and it's all more than I could ever ask for.

But I want more, call me selfish, I couldn't care any less. I should at least try, right? Let me attempt to get what I want and feel no remorse because if I fail at least I know I did all I possibly could. I'm prepared for rejection, my heart is ready for him to say no I can't, and my body is already so weak that I don't have much fight left in me anyway.

I'll just call out to him and see what happens.

"Sebastian..."

His name is released as a soft breath and he immediately removes his mouth from me, leaving hard kisses up my chest until we're eye-level again. His lips are red, his bruised cheeks flushed, and he stares at me like he wants to devour every single part of my body.

I swallow when he releases his handfuls of flesh and I stop breathing all together when he takes a step back and gives me the once over. I feel exposed and vulnerable, and I want him on me again, I need that touch. I'm overly conscious of how he examines me and it makes me nervous beyond belief.

"S-sebastian..." I lack confidence, self-esteem, self-worth you name it and I've depleted most of my reserve. He watches me and I hug my frail waist, wrapping myself in my own arms because he won't come to me and I don't know what to do.

Does he not want me anymore? Does he not like how I look now? Does he despise my taste, my weakened body, my pale skin, my grown-out hair, my voice? Does he dislike me...or worse - does he hate me?

"I'm so in love with you it hurts."

* * *

The stale cellar air is thick, the lavish walls almost distort as racks of wine upon racks of wine are lost in their repetitive pattern. The concrete floor is cold beneath my feet, the marbled sink across the room reflects the pale light from above in each and every expertly-tiled mirror that rests behind it. Music wavers from above - violins, cellos, piano, this beautiful orchestra suffocated by the thick walls we're encased in. The smell of Sebastian. The sight of his body. Those wide shoulders, his busted lip, his messy hair, the collar bone that peeks from beneath his black shirt. Those pants that are practically sliding down his hips. His throat. His eyes. My confidence, my drive, my self-worth all suddenly coming back to me. This moment in time has been emblazoned into my mind and it makes me feel alive again. It fuels me.

I stare at his mouth because I can't believe what just came out of it and he smiles because my face is on fire and I probably look ridiculous. I swallow and breathe out, and he looks down to the floor, lowering his head as he tugs on the collar of his shirt.

With fingers clenched into the cloth he slips the black fabric from over his head, past his shoulders, his arms, his elbows and he lets the shirt fall delicately down to the ground.

His body is a work of art I've said it a million times before and I'll say it again and again. He's beautifully sculpted it's almost unreal, and I flinch when his palm rises to cup the side of my warm face.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes" I reply shakily, my eyes groping his muscles and licking his abdomen, shamelessly stuck on checking him out while my mind is trying to process the first time anyone has ever declared their love for me.

"Look at me," he moves my face so our eyes can meet and kisses me with those sweet lips, leaving his mouth on top of mine as he repeats himself, "I love you and..."

And...and what? Oh god please speak you angel, tell it to me again, declare it one more time, reiterate your words I don't care just let me hear you! You love me and what else? You love me and tell me the rest, you love me and you won't ever believe how happy that makes me. There's not a single other thing you can say that will make me go this crazy, you've done it all. You've said it all - you're perfect. You love me and you're perfect.

"...and I don't want to be a virgin anymore."

..

Pinch me. Shoot me. Kill me. Somebody, quick - rip my heart out of my chest before it crawls up my throat and into my mouth and I choke on it and die.

I can't even react to his words because in a split second my jaw is grabbed by his forceful hand, my back shoves into the shelf and my mouth is attacked. I make noises but he shuts me up with the curl of his tongue and the way he yanks my robe down with his free hand.

I try to balance myself but I can't so my fingers grip onto the bottles behind me in an act of desperation. I moan and he grunts, and he's kissing me so fucking good that it sends a shiver down my spine.

I'm in love with the way his wet mouth is on me, the way he holds my jaw...the sudden feel of my robe dropping right down to my feet.

"Agh, fuck." l knock my head back, ripping our lips apart when he bites my tongue so hard that I can feel it pulsating just as fast as my heart. It throbs within my mouth and in an instant the shirtless fucking godsend before me drops down onto his knees.

"Sebastian wait-" it's all I can breathe out when my left leg is suddenly slung over his broad shoulder and he stuffs my dick deep into his throat.

I haven't been touched in so long and it's well worth the wait, but I'm starting to fall victim to his skill in giving head. I can't even look down because I'll come in an instant, so I grip onto the bottles and try to steady my breath. His mouth waters as he slathers the tip of my dick with wet kisses and he moans he fucking moans when he pushes all of it past his lips. That tongue of his should be illegal, breaking laws of pleasure, of perfection. He swirls it around, dragging it across the underside of my entire length and I can feel my thighs start to shake. He's so good my fucking thighs are shaking -  _my thighs_. My legs. My whole body, I can barely even fucking stand.

"Like that, god..." the only words I can form drift out of me when he starts to swallow, squeezing me as I push into the back of his throat. It's so hot in there it's wet and tight and his lips are wrapped around the base of my dick and I'm about to lose myself.

The sounds he makes are fucking stupid. They're fucking unbelievable. They're stupidly unbelievable. I don't know where he learned how to do this but he licks me in all the right spots and it's so fucking pathetic how undone it makes me. He's humming into his sucks and when he starts to bob his head up and down - that's when I finally look at him.

The flesh of my cock is dripping with his saliva, it's flush from being rubbed up and down, and god only knows how hard I am. My dick being devoured isn't what does it for me, though - it's his face. With one hand gripping onto the underside of my lifted thigh, his other presses into my hip bone and the expression on his face, how do I even begin to explain it.

_He fucking loves it._

It's as if he's feasting on some exquisite culinary masterpiece. Like he enjoys the taste of my precum dripping out of me and mixing with his saliva, like he fucking savors it. Like he needs it. It causes my body to move on its own and I start to roll my hips into his gaping mouth because did he not just beg me for it with the flick of his tongue?

"Do you like it?" I ask him and jerk my pelvis hard so his mouth is so full that he could never even dream of answering me.

"Tell me how much you like it." I demand vulgarly, breathlessly, and he lifts my thigh up higher, slurping his way off my dick completely in response.

Before I can even express my discontent he tells me "I love it" and buries his face in between my legs. He moves my dick out of the way and starts licking me all over, sucking and biting my flesh because he can't fucking help it. I can feel his tongue sliding lower past my taint and he tilts his head, giving me a show of that handsome jaw as he does the unthinkable.

"Agh! Fuck, wait,...Sebastian!"

His body turns, my lifted leg dropping to the floor, my hips sticking as far out as my legs are spread wide. That perfect naked torso of his twists and both of his hands smack onto my ass to roughly part me almost completely in two. His long fingers are stuffed deep, gripping my muscle as hard as possible and I release the loudest moan in the universe when that tongue drags over my fucking hole.

It's warm and wet and it's accompanied by those teeth he loves to use. He almost can't help nipping me but I fucking love it, shit, you don't have to ask me twice. He can bite me as much as he wants if that's what he's in to.

God the way he looks right now is unbearable. I can see the soft outline of his ribs as he contorts to eat me out backwards, his breathing intense and I'm now witness to his hips, his hip-bones that are barely there, his abdomen, his spread knees, and fuck - that enormous cock just screaming at me to release it from the confines of his pants.

Soon my baby, I'll fucking help you, don't worry. You'll be getting a nice home in no time.

"AH!" Shit. Fuck.  _Fucking_  shit. His tongue is rough as it pushes itself inside me but that's not why I just screamed like a bitch. One of his fingers had the audacity to join in and he pulls on me to stretch me out just so he can taste more of me.

The digit slides all the way in, knuckle deep, and he slowly circles it around like he's an expert in fingering men. I haven't felt anything like this before, and even though it hurts it hurts fucking  _good,_ and I whine at the way he laps at the opening. He's taking care of me in every way possible and I can only dream that he's doing this for a reason.

Because I will go crazy on him if he fucks me.

The amount of saliva that's going in me makes his finger slippery and wet. He makes noises as he tongue-fucks me and his breath is hot as he gasps into my flesh. I'm gripping onto wine bottles with both hands, trying not to fall as I'm practically sitting on his face but when he slips in another digit I gurgle out a moan and put my weight on the shelves.

I love it, I love it - I love him.

"Augh!" my jaw drops and I scream and the soft clattering of the glass behind me is ignored when my head knocks into the bottles. I can feel that fire creep up within me, that primal urge that takes over my body and the only fucking thing that has control over me is Sebastian. Figuratively, literally, at the curl of his jerking fingers I do whatever he wants - and right now he's practically begging me to bend over.

"Sebastian...please..." I can't even speak in sentences I'm so out of breath. I'm dreaming of having my mouth run up his thighs and down his dick, licking him all over, messing him up, driving him wild. I want to taste him but he won't let me have it, I want to feel him but he's too invested in having his jaw jerking up into my ass that he would never listen to me in a million years.

It complicates my actions and I grow frustrated. My eyes fixate on the way his dick bulges tightly against his thigh, the way it swells within those pants like they'll be ripped open any fucking second. To see the shape of him, I would rather die than be deprived of that sight. I want to see it. I  _need_  to see it.

"Unzip yourself-" Those are the words I gasp out before he angles the fingers inside of me and rubs me in all the right places. I fucking scream when he does this and without thinking all of my weight is on my hands, and I feel the two bottles I'm duel-wielding begin to slip from their place.

"Fuck!" I feel his teeth drag against me and I clench his fingers hard when I get that feeling. You know that feeling. That feeling like you're about to fucking explode, like everything becomes foggy and muffled out and the frustration is diminishing into anticipation and everything around you is about to be blown into a million tiny fragments of pleasure.

I'm coming. I'm about to come I can feel it twitching in my dick and in my thighs and knees, my back, my body. I'm breathing hard, panting like a dog, my eyes now shut and my hips jerking forward and back over his opened mouth, dragging my sex all over the fucking place.

" _Ngh_!" He adds a third finger – I fucking scream so loud that the bottles of wine around me fucking age ten years time and in that second right before I'm about to come he changes position.

His tongue slides up to my dick and he swallows it like he wants to be fed. My abdomen tenses, my muscles freeze in place and my jaw drops as I attempt to scream, yet I make no sound. He smothers his face with the scent of my sex and the only thing I can hear is the squelch of his long fingers fucking me hard, the way he moans as he swallows me as deep as he can go.

The two bottles I was once holding onto crash down onto the floor and I come for the first time in months – right into Sebastian's scorching hot mouth. The shattering of glass, the spilling of wine, of cum – all my senses explode.

His fingers rub me from the inside out, milking me as his mouth glides up to my spurting tip. He drinks me and I start to breathe again and I can't believe that I'm still coming, it's still going on, this is still happening.

I thought I knew what ecstasy felt like, when in reality – I knew nothing. Not until this very moment, not until I see this man's throat begin to move and his body turn so he's now on his knees facing me completely.  _This_  is ecstasy, this is pleasure. This is what I've waited my whole life for.

With lips still latched onto my dick he swipes his tongue over the slit that feeds him and I can't believe that he's swallowing my pent-up frustrations of five months time. I watch him and he's beautiful, he's the sexiest man I've ever met, he's perfection incarnate and yet I quickly push his shoulders off of me because it suddenly dawns on me.

The broken glass, the smell of spilled wine, the blush color of the substance that pools around us – I think nothing of it. I only try to steady my breath and shake my head no, biting my lips before I finally rasp out an order.

"Don't swallow…Sebastian.  _Don't waste it_."

Don't waste it. You need it, trust me. Please get it. Please understand what I'm telling you, what I'm offering you, what I'm  _begging_  you to do to me. You comprehend my statement, don't you? You want it just as bad, right? Sebastian please, you're so innocent, so sweet. Get it through your head you virginal being, you saint, tell me you know what I mean.

He rises from his knees, sliding his fingers out of me and using that hand to wrap around the base of my dick. I whine when he does this, and as his mouth lines up to my own he slides his fist up my length and gathers all of the cum that seeps right from me. He looks so sincere, and he swallows like he loves the taste of me, and with fingers now slick with my own fluid his biceps flex and he sticks the three back in me.

My teeth clench, my right leg lifts and wraps around his thigh, and his beautiful mouth slides up my sweaty throat, licking me just before he starts to breathe into my ear.

"You're wet enough, aren't you?"

His deep voice weakens all of me and the sound of his soaked fingers dipping in and out of me has my heart almost exploding on the spot. His statement was innocent, yet laced with deception, and I wonder if he likes to tease, if he likes it rough. I wonder how crazy he can get.

Because god only knows how much I'd fucking love it.

"Your hair is long, I love it like this. I love everything about you." The hand that isn't pumping into me gently messes with my hair, and both of our bodies are jerking when he starts to pull on it.

My throat is exposed as I lean my head back onto the shelves and I can't even speak yet alone answer him. I bring my palms flat onto his bare chest and I slide my fingers up to his collar bone, feeling his skin, his sweat. His tongue traces my jaw and he yanks my damp locks and starts fucking me harder.

The pain is exhilarating, the pleasure even worse, and I start to whine because I'm all out of moans.

The way he's breathing in my ear and the way his fingers are stretching me cause me to make sounds I never even knew were possible - but when he takes interest in biting my throat I cry out like a bitch and wrap my leg tighter around him.

My ankle digs into his lower back and my fingers claw onto his shoulder blades. If he likes to bite then fuck how I love to scratch, and you better believe I'll be leaving my mark tonight.

His tongue drags over the skin he clamps down on and my fingernails rake hard over his muscle. He hisses into his bite and I purr at the way he pierces my flesh, and with my talons out I scratch him all the way down his rib cage. Each bump I trace gets me hotter, each bone of his I feel making me desire that ultimate sin, that desecration of self. I want him to fuck me so bad I'm shaking, and my dick has been left so deprived it's already up for more.

My strewn robe is soaking in all the wine as it rests by our feet, and I could only wish to be as soiled as it has become. I want to taste his sweat and blood, his tears, his cum, every breath he takes I want to steal it right from him and I can't take this anymore I'm going crazy. My fingernails drag lower and lower and when I get to his hips I slowly slide them beneath the hem of his pants. His skin is so hot under his clothing, but not as hot as the area right above his throbbing dick.

My index and middle finger jam under his boxers and right when I feel that girth spread my digits wide he flinches and jerks away, forcing my hands out of his pants.

What have I done.

I'm sorry, forgive me. I've acted out of turn, Sebastian. Please.

The fingers that curve into my hole suddenly pop out of me, my lifted leg drops down onto the floor, and his teeth remove themselves from me completely. I fear the inevitable, that we've taken this too far – but when I look at him all of my fears are completely wiped away.

He's panting hard, his breath caught in his throat, and he looks at me like I did this to him, like it was all my fault. Whatever ounce of innocence that was left in his face is gone completely, never to be seen again. His hands are on the button to his pants, his feet are kicking off his shoes, his socks, and I am left a mess on the shelves, unable to even stand when I watch him start to remove his clothing.

He stares right at me as he unzips himself, and I feel the heat singe the skin of my cheeks as I grow hungry for him. I'm desperate and I can't help but look at his naked hips, but when he slides all those useless clothes down past his thighs I feel like I'm about to faint. I feel sick. I feel like I'm about to collapse.

The mere size of his dick turns me into a babbling mess and I'm making these noises like I've never seen a man naked in my entire life. The way his fat shaft is shaped makes me swallow, and it's that kind of hard where it's sticking straight out, beating red, swollen with blood, engorged with the desire to be pushed into something nice and tight. His tip is dripping and I want to fall to my knees just to taste him but I don't. Instead I watch him some more, frozen in place.

He's thick and fuck is he ribbed, and I inadvertently lick my lips when he steps out of his fallen clothes and jerks himself off only for a second, only to let me be witness to one of the sexiest fucking things I've ever  _fucking_  seen. With his hand on himself I finally find my footing, and it's my own impatience that starts this inevitable exercising of consummation. 

I lunge at him, my arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down, forcing him to kiss me because I need his lips every waking minute. His hands fall to my waist as he stumbles backwards, and we start to make out hard like we can't control ourselves.

Our tongues are sloppy and we make noises as we kiss, our jaws jerking up hard and forceful as our muscles suckle and smack into one another. I'm not even aware of it but I back him into the marble sink all the way across the room and I open my eyes only for a split second and see our reflection in the pieces of mirror that overlook the cellar. The muscles in his back move when he grabs me tighter, and I notice the scratches I've left that trail all the way down to his ribs.

His immaculate body is beyond sexy, and the way his tongue forces itself around in my mouth is something that can't be learned – he's simply born to be this skilled.

" _Fuck_ " the expletive leaves my lips when his dick jams into the flesh of my belly and for the second time I try to touch him again. I close my eyes and slide a hand down from his broad shoulders, past that fine chest, and finally to the base of his wide cock. I squeeze it , it's harder than I could ever imagine – and he flinches once again.

It frustrates me.

Our mouths separate and he shakes his head before catching his breath and whispering out his reason.

"If you touch me I'll come and…I don't want to disappoint you."

My god how fucking beautiful can he be. Don't discipline me for my actions with an excuse like that, Sebastian, you untouched fucking soul. You pure, selfless man how I fucking want to ravage you right here and now so just grant my wish and let me do it.

With a firm grip I grab him again, my chin lifting, my eyelids falling, my lips plump from how he's bitten them. My index finger and thumb wrap around the base of that wide thing and I squeeze him so hard he grunts.

"You act like we only have tonight when we have the rest of our lives. Do whatever you want, there's no way you'll ever be satisfied only once - I'll endure you."

His palm lifts to cup the side of my heated face and he leaves a soft kiss on my lips.

"How about you…are you okay with this? I know last time we-"

"No, Sebastian," I interrupt him because I don't want him to think I'm the same person, "this isn't like last time – it's different. Can't you feel the way I touch you? The way you touch me?"

I pull on his wrist and place his large palm over my chest with my unoccupied hand. I want him to feel my heartbeat, my warm skin, the sweat that trickles from my throat. I stare at him and I know he gets it. He sees it – he knows.

My fingers try to clench all the way around the swollen girth of his dick but they can't he's just that hard. He's that thick. My digits slide all the way up, pressing hard over his plump flesh, over engorged veins, and I moan right on top of his mouth when my thumb finally reaches the swell of his tip. The shape is slippery with precum and I smear it around, slathering his length with his own fluids and pumping more out of him.

His face is red, he blushes and I love it, and we stare at one another for only a split second before we kiss for the millionth time. His lips are sweet, his tongue even sweeter, and I gasp into his mouth when he turn us around, jamming my back into the edge of the marble sink. I lean against it and he grabs my left leg from under my knee, propping it up high.

My hand is swatted away from his dick and he grabs it himself, kissing me roughly as he presses his tip between my legs. The way we're angled is difficult for someone with no experience, so I lean lower onto the sink, my elbows now propping my weight up, my hips jerking so he can try to fit that crazy thing inside me.

We stop kissing, we both breathe. He looks at me like he's in love with me and my eyebrows slant in slight fear because I'm actually scared of the pain I know I'm about to feel. He shakes his head, equally worried, and our foreheads press together right when I feel that fat tip drag across my hole.

I whine, he watches over me, and I can feel his eyes console me. He swears he won't hurt me but his body betrays even himself, and in the next few seconds I fall victim to the swell of his dick slowly pressing into me.

"Gghh!  _Ngh_!" My mouth cracks open, my head jerks all the way back, and it hurts so much I can't even speak. My heart is bursting, my legs are weak, my body feels like it's breaking in two and I shut my eyes so tight that tears fall from them.

The pressure I feel disappears in an instant and Sebastian slips out of me all while lifting me right up from the sink and into his arms. He embraces me hard, frantically kissing the skin of my sweaty neck and I can feel his heart hammering within his chest when our torsos press together.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" he breathes out desperately, unable to even compose a shred of his worry. I can feel his biceps shaking and his hands trembling as they wrap around me and my mind is racing as I try to comprehend everything that just happened.

It's a reaction I've never seen before and this man's behavior shocks me still. Most men would tell me to endure, to wait until it feels better, to shut my mouth. They would never even take into account what I felt. But Sebastian, his first time even getting an inch inside anyone he stops. I didn't even tell him to stop he just did it instinctively, out of reflex, because he would rather deprive himself of pleasure than to ever cause me pain.

"Sebastian…" I kiss his collar bone and gently slide my fingers up to his jaw, lifting his face. His cheeks are red, his eyebrows are twisted in worry, and his lips are parted as he breathes. He's cute, he's adorable, he's sexy. He's mine and I would be stupid to deny myself the chance to take his virginity and show him that it's not all pain and suffering. It's something I want to feel too, don't get me wrong. I've never had someone like this, I've never made love. I'm a virgin too and I want him just as bad.

"It's the position. It's difficult, you understand right?"

"I'm sorry. We don't have to-"

"No." I cut him off because there's no way in hell this night is ending like this.

We stare at each other and I smile genuinely at him before kissing the side of his wounded mouth just because it's too tempting to resist. I force his arms to unlatch from my waist and he does everything I don't even verbally ask for. I push him back and my palms are on both of his shoulders and I check out his body before I speak to him.

Damn he is fine.

"You still want me, right?"

"Yes" he speaks, staring only at my eyes even though the temptation of my body is right in front of him.

"Then let me suggest a way that will help ease the pain, are you okay with that?"

"I…which way is that?"

My hands slide down from his shoulders to his chest, and I lick my lips as I look at him and silently order him to stay still. He obeys my request and I turn around, placing both of my palms flat on the marble sink. I bend over and curve my back, and before I even glance at him in the mosaic of mirrors I hear him let out a heated breath.

"Y-you want me to…"

He's nervous and I can't help but smile to myself, so I answer him by spreading my legs just a bit more.

In an instant his hands are on my ass and he gently massages the skin as he tries to hold back his frustrations.

"But I want to see your face…"

He is  _cute_.

"I need to see your face, Ciel."

_Adorable._

I turn my head, looking over my shoulder and stare right at him. I'm practically begging him with the way my eyes move slowly down his body, and he swallows when I grant him his wish.

"You want me to look at you while you fuck me?"

He looks away shamefully, his face beating with embarrassment. His hands slide to my hips and he blankets my back to give me a kiss.

"Don't say it like that."

"Why not? I'm just trying to seduce you, you know."

"You don't need to seduce me..." his face is serious and I actually feel bad for opening my foul mouth. I'm so bad at playing good and sometimes I just can't help myself when I'm around him - he's so easy to tease.

"This is my first time - I've waited my whole life for you, Ciel. This isn't a one night stand so I don't want you treating it like one."

"And talking dirty to you makes you think this is a one night stand?"

"No. Just...with this position, it's very...I just think it's a bit..."

He's so nervous it hurts. I get it now. He dislikes how impersonal our positions are. He doesn't want to fuck me while facing my back, he wants to see my face, my reactions, my pain and pleasure and everything in between. I understand him I really do, but I don't think he gets that we won't be locked in to only one position for the night.

"Sebastian," I roll my ass into his erection and watch him come undone, "just fuck me before we make love - it'll be easier on my body. You're too well-endowed for us to be facing each other."

"Don't say that...ah, god."

He likes it when I grind against him and I try not to moan myself, as he needs me to take the lead.

"Look, I won't cuss, I won't speak vulgarly, I promise you - just do it like this for a few minutes until I get used to your size. After that I'll do whatever you want, trust me."

"O-okay. Will it...fit?"

I stare at him and my lips curl into a small smile because I know this is the last of his innocence I'll ever be witness to. I savor the moment, mentally reminding myself not to curse just for his sake, and I rub up against his dick hard, pushing it against my hole.

"Why don't you find out?"

He presses his lips against mine again and warns me by breathing out "I told you not to talk like that" and my entire body tenses at the way his expression changes.

I feel one of his hands lift from my waist and he holds his dick by the tip, positioning it right onto my hole. I feel his heat, how wet that smooth head is, I feel that impending pressure that's about to invade my body and I close my eyes and breathe out, caught in this specific second of time. He captures my lips and forces my mouth open and that's when I finally feel it.

"Ngh!  ** _Fucking_** _-"_  


I lied. I curse loud right into the kiss and he busies my disobedient lips with the roll of his tongue. His hips slowly press the slippery tip all the way inside of me and I just can't help but squirm. That sensation of being stretched for the first time in forever has my fingers curling into the smooth surface of the marble and I break our kiss in the interesting of breathing out, just so I can adhere to the sheer size of him.

"Fuck. Fuck. Hah, god..."

  
_My god. Please._ He sinks deeper into me and I want him to pull out just to give me some relief but he doesn't because he's unaware of how big he is. I let him continue, he wants to keep kissing me, but I just can't give it to him because I feel like I'm being split in half.

  
_"Please_   _kiss_   _me."_  


He's so selfish. He lacks confidence, he's scared. He's unsure of his actions and he requires affirmation and that's something I can't do right now because I'm trying to concentrate on trying to survive this.

But he means the world to me so I do it anyway.

My right hand slaps onto the back of his neck and I yank his hair, pulling him down, forcing him to kiss me just like he wants it. He loves it and he pushes his dick deeper, and it feels like everything is in but when I glance down to our attachment he's not even half way.

I don't remember him being this big. I know that sounds moronic but I seriously, in all honesty, do not recall his dick being this long. He's fucking hung and he doesn't even know it and it makes me hornier than I could ever even imagine. I can't handle it, I can't take it - I want it all inside of me and I want it now. I want him to stop being so unsure of himself and just let go.

Our tongues unravel as my hand slams back down onto the marble and he moans hard, his face grunting like he's in pain. He probably is, I'm probably squeezing him too tightly and he thinks it'll be this excruciating forever - but it won't. Trust me, Sebastian, I will try my best and give it to you good if my life depends on it.

I breathe out, widen my thighs, and concentrate on relaxing every muscle I possess. I feel him sink in easier and he lets out an "ah god" and when his dick's so deep that it feels like it's pressing into my fucking ribs I feel his hips press into my ass. I've taken in all of him, I did it - I should win a metal for such a fine feat.

His mouth is open over the skin of my shoulder and he's breathing hard like he just ran a marathon. His torso is shaking and his hands slide down my elbows, past my arms and down to my wrists where he entwines our fingers, gripping tightly onto my digits as his long body blankets my entire backside.

He doesn't move, he doesn't speak. He just breathes, and the way he does it is maddening to me. His voice is low when he grunts out a breath, his lips on me, his teeth only digging into my skin slightly. He's overcome with the sensation of having a piece of him buried into someone else and he has no words. He's in shock.

"S-sebastian...you have to move, love."

The term of endearment forces a gruff whine to slip from his lips and he tries to calm himself just so he can speak.

"C-can't. You're squeezing me too tightly..."

"I'm not squeezing you, baby - you're just too big," I can feel my insides begin to throb and his dick twitches at the way I clench down on him, "so start moving, yeah? Slowly, just pull out a tiny bit and go back in...it'll feel better for both of us."

I dote on him, I admit it - because believe it or not he still has that innocence to him. He's still pure and sweet, and when he looks up at me it makes my heart ache almost as much as my ass. When our eyes meet we can't help but kiss, and his teeth clench onto my bottom lip when he starts to slide out of me.

The way his swollen tip glides past my insides drives me to a point of lunacy, and I can't help but whine into his mouth. His dick is now half out of me, and he releases my lip when he slowly goes back in.

I stare at his wet mouth like I'm in a trance, the way he pushes into me makes me want to scream. It's like he knows exactly what he's doing, slowly rolling his hips and stretching me, moving all his muscles, concentrating only on my reactions, on feeling me from the inside out.

I breathe out a strangled gasp when he pushes it into me so deep that my body is almost lifted from its place. I can feel it now, that sting subsiding, that absence of pain as it evolves into pleasure, the way he's starting to grunt like he needs more.

As I glance behind my shoulder I can see the expanse of his dick sinking into me. His body is sculpted like you wouldn't believe, but the muscles that tense in his abdomen when he fucks is something no one could ever even imagine. His skin is sweaty, his arms hold me down hard, and his face is starting to change.

  
_"Ciel..."_  he can barely even speak the sound of my name as it gets stuck in his throat, and I am fixated on his eyes as they tightly shut. It looks like he's beside himself, and when he holds my hands even tighter I turn my head and look down at our fingers.

His hands are so red, his knuckles white, his skin is hot and then suddenly, in an instant, I finally realize what's happening to me. I finally grasp this reality, I finally get it, it finally hits me. I want to say something to him but my lips don't move, my voice is lost. I let out a small whine and I open my mouth but then something else happens, interrupting my every action.

He starts moving.

"Sh-fuck!" I choose my curses when he pulls out and jerks back into me. It's not just the feel of his dick dragging out and then back in, but it's the way his lips have moved to rest right by my ear and the sounds that I hear.

He starts panting like it's feeling good and I can tell it is when he starts to pump the tip of his dick into me. Like he's giving himself a rough massage he acts like he's about to remove it completely but he doesn't - he pops it in and out, barely letting me feel his crazy length, teasing me as if he has every right to.

He's still so gentle it hurts, so I grip onto his fingers hard and push back onto him, forcing him to fuck me as deep as he can go.

  
_"Rgh, Ciel..."_  he grunts like the man that he is and fucking pushes me back even harder, angry because I gave him a taste of how sweet it feels to play rough.

My head knocks back and I gasp when he does it again, pulling out and slamming into me like he doesn't know how strong he is. He releases my fingers and grasps my jaw with a forceful hand, jerking my head to the side as his tongue forces its way down my throat.

He loves to fucking kiss and you know what I can't get enough of it either, but the way that he's working his hips now is what really makes me melt.

He slams into me now, ruthlessly snapping his hips forward and back, uncaring how fucking good its making me feel, not knowing that he's making me shake with a pleasure I have  _never_ fucking felt. Our lips suckle and smack over one another but the sound is muffled by his hips slapping onto my ass whenever he plunges that swollen cock into me.

I can smell our sweat, I can taste his heightened senses, I can practically swallow them whole. The sounds of his fat dick squeezing through my tight ass is enough to drive the both of us mad, so naturally we do it harder - and faster.

"Fuck, f-uck! Fucking-!" Our mouths separate and my head hangs low now as he's latched onto each shoulder and decides to fuck me at an angle that makes my dick want to burst. I'm fucking hard and I would give anything to touch myself but my palms are now gripping onto the edge of the counter for dear life because his thrusts have become brutal.

The shape of his long dick is hitting spots I never even knew existed and I'm moaning like the bitch I never was. I mean I am  _loud._  I don't fucking care that I'm in a wine cellar, or my parent's house, or beneath the dance floor of a once a year event and I'm louder than the music I don't care I don't fucking care because-

"AUGH! Sebastian!"

Virgin no more he rolls his hips from side to side when his dick presses into me as far as it can go and I can't help but scream at the top of my lungs at the way his fat base grinds onto my hole. He barely fits inside of me but he loves shoving it in and out, and I'm screaming so loud that I don't even understand half of the shit that's coming out of my mouth.

But I know he doesn't like it because he slaps a hand over my lips and jerks my head back, using it as leverage when he kicks open my legs and starts going to fucking town on me.

I scream into his palm, he pivots his hips just right and starts slowing down to prove his point that he's in control. He lets me feel the curve of his thick head slide right inside me and it's so wet I can feel precum dripping down my inner thigh.

I moan so hard I feel dizzy, and he starts to kiss my back. He licks my skin, lapping up my sweat as he moves across my shoulder blades, his lips gentle and sweeter than anything in this world. He murmurs "I love you" over and over and I get this feeling inside me like I want to fucking cry and scream and orgasm all at the same time.

My legs are shaking, my body feels weak, he starts giving me those slow thrusts that end with a shove and my insides feel like they're on fire. My mouth opens and I thud my tongue against the constraint of his palm and he releases me because he'll do anything I ask.

"Faster, Sebastian... _please."_  


He must not have heard me, because he stops when he's filled me up all the way and his dick is throbbing hard inside me without any movement - the movement that I so desperately require.

"If...if I do it fast then I'll..." he hesitates, I interrupt him.

"I want you to come inside me. Can you do that for me?" I prop my right knee on the counter and I bend over even more, my jaw now resting on the cool surface of the marble.

He hisses at the sensation, my hole now completely exposed to him, and he snakes a hand down between my legs and starts grabbing my dick like he can't even resist it.

I moan and move my hips, rocking my body into him and fucking myself hard, impaling my ass onto that heavy dick of his like it's nobody's fucking business.

I know he's watching me, watching my desperation as I move and curve my body, watching his own cock get played with, watching each and every muscle I use to try and please him.

I feel his dick throb when it slides back into me and in that instant he removes his hand from between my legs and slaps both of his palms onto my waist, grabbing me hard.

"You feel so...f-"

I swear he's about to cuss but instead he starts pounding into me so hard that it knocks the wind out of me. He claws onto my hips and slams into me fast and deep, he removes his dick completely and then fucking pries me open with it again, causing me to scream every time I breathe out.

I'm coming again. The way he beats into me has me babbling, it makes me shake, it literally makes my body convulse and when I feel his wet tip grind and shove into that fucking spot that can milk me in a split second I go crazy and start screaming his name.

He fucking loves it and I can tell by the way that his dick is pumping out of rhythm that he's going to get it too. His inexperience has him going wild on me, relentless as he thrusts hard and I gurgle out a gasp of a moan when I finally feel him give me that final violent pounding.

He fucking moans and scratches my skin leaving his engorged length all the way in as he finally comes, and I do too.

I feel him spill into me and it's so hot that it burns, it makes me feel like I'm going to burst. I don't even fucking care about my own dick and just spurt all over the fucking floor because I can't even handle all of his cum.

He's a grown-ass man and this was his first time I get it but fuck he fills me so much that I feel it dripping down my thighs. My orgasm is rattling through my bones and my vision is blurred and I can't even begin to feel the constraints of reality because I'm so high off of him that it hurts.

His hips are locked onto me and his forehead presses into my shoulder and I feel the weight of his body suddenly shift away from me. About an inch of his dick slides out of me and he has the nerve to push it back in because I don't know, he wants to make me go insane.

But I love it. I love how he's feeling me out, how he's experimenting with my body, wanting to know what it feels like to fuck a hole so soaked with his own seed that it keeps him hard and infused with vitality.

He keeps thrusting weakly into me and I'm still moaning through my teeth, and I finally come to the conclusion that he wants more. He  _needs_  more.

"Sebastian..." my leg slowly lowers from the counter and I remove myself from him. I swallow at the way his dick slides out of me and he practically whines, disagreeing with our detachment.

Before I can even turn around  _he_  turns  _me_  around and backs me into the sink. God his face is red and sweaty, his hair falls down messily over his cheeks and before my eyes can even lower to the sight of his monster dick he grabs my lower back and starts kissing me like he's mustered all the passion and virility in the world and wants to feed it to me.

His head tilts and I squeak out an 'ungh' sound and our tongues start going crazy. I grab him by the back of the neck, practically hanging off of his long body because I can barely even stand, and he deepens the kiss if it were even possible.

Fuck he's good. He's so into it, he's obsessed with my mouth and it makes me feel overjoyed. I let him lead and he controls me with his lips and before I know it he's pressing his dick into my hip, slipping the cum-smeared tip all over my skin.

I grab it. As if I were touching fucking fire I jerk my hand away when I cop a squeeze and feel him because he's even harder now. As if having sex for the first time made him harness the powers of stamina this man is  _not_  satisfied. I touch it again when he starts suckling on my tongue, and my thumb presses against the underside of his wet flesh. I slide my way up to his tip and can feel the warmth of his cum drip onto my skin.

I knock my head back so I can breathe and he doesn't even care he just kisses his way down past my jaw and latches onto my throat. I stare at the ceiling and listen to the music above us and I massage his dick with one hand, trying to compose my thoughts.

"Tell me you want more..." these words barely crawl out of my throat and he responds by sucking hard over my Adam's apple, his favorite fucking spot. I writhe in his arms and he holds me even tighter, and the sensation of our sweaty bodies slipping over one another makes me beg for more because you know what -  _I'm the one who fucking needs it._  


"Please, fuck. Sebastian..." I'm not ashamed to beg, shit. He obviously has the drive and I the desperation, and I groan in approval when he glides a hand down to grab my ass hard.

It's as if clenching onto my flesh sparks this fire within him and in a split second he slaps his large hands over each of my thighs and lifts me right from the floor.

My ankles lock around his waist, my arms around his neck, and he attacks my mouth again when he forcefully pushes my hips and sits me down on his hard dick.

I scream into his mouth and he starts fucking me hard, spreading my thighs open with his fingers as he lets me bounce on his swollen cock. He lifts my body up with his strong arms and then lets me impale myself onto him, and I can't even fucking think straight because I've never done it like this before.

His kiss his so rough it's almost violent, and I swallow so many of his moans that I'm full of so much of his voice that I have to scream myself.

"F-fuck! Fuck, like that, you're good,  _rgh."_  


He hates all of my curses and beats his dick into me with more force, disciplining me for having such a filthy fucking mouth. I knock my head back and it hangs loose, jerking up and down as I relinquish all control over to him.

His hips rock forward and back and he hisses in his breaths while grunting them back out again. The air he sucks in through his teeth is fucking music to my ears, its hot, it's carnal, it's the sexiest thing I've ever heard.

I hang off of him as my lower half is being beat into submission and I come to the conclusion that he was born to fuck me like this. He exists solely to be a part of me, to be with me and in me and every part of the world that surrounds me. I can never be without him now, not after we suffered so much and waited so long for each other. He's mine and there isn't one fucking person in existence who will ever keep us apart. Because I will kill to be with this man.

His endurance is unbelievable, his strength is something else completely. He lifts me like I weigh nothing, and even though I know I'm small I'm still a man, an adult, yet he thrusts into me and sends my body jerking up so high that I have to dig my fingers into his hair and pull on it just so I won't fall off.

" _Fuck."_  


He says this under his breath and the moment I hear his sinful expletive I put my weight on him and slam myself down so hard that he growls at me like an animal.

"Mm, I knew you'd like it hard."

His hips roll in a motion that sends my torso whipping back onto his chest and I feel his dick dig into every sensitive part of me. I think he's had enough of my foul mouth for the night because he shuts me up with lips once again and I can't help but purr into his sloppy kiss.

I taste him and I close my eyes, I hear him and I let my jaw drop, I  _feel_  him and my arms wrap around his neck. I'm latching onto him tight, my elbows flanking his ears as we both start slipping into this madness. We feed off of one another and we both get rough with it, we both bite and roll our jaws and drag our tongues all over the place. We make noises that put the orchestra above is to shame and he dips me down and slows his movements.

His plump tip is angled in a way that pushes into me hard, and I moan into his sultry mouth when I feel the mixture of his come get fucked right out of me. It slides down my skin every time I'm lifted up and I open my eyes just because I want to see if it's making him go just as mad.

I look at him and his eyes are half open - because he's staring right at me.

Our kiss slows down and he starts fucking me so gently it hurts. Our eyes never leave one another and it's like we're communicating without any words needing to be spoken. Yet he speaks. He knocks his hips back, sinks it into me for the final time and then whispers onto my wet lips, right before I feel him release everything he's got into me.

  
_"Ciel,_   _I love_   _you."_  


I watch his mouth move, I feel his hands grab me and I listen to every word he says as my legs dig into his back. I shiver and shake and let out a gasp of a breath before he nudges my cheek with his lips and kisses my damp skin.

The power of his actions far exceed any of his words and I smile in the middle of catching my breath, trying to piece apart this fantasy turned reality.

Despite my wealth and my occupation, despite my downfalls and my misgivings and my lineage and my pride I fall victim to his voice, his skin, his touch and everything in between.

"Sebastian, I-"

He cuts me off with a kiss, his face blankets with a blush and my heart thumps hard within my chest.

He doesn't care about my past or my sins or my afflictions.

He's better than that, he's everything I could ever ask for.

My name is Ciel Phantomhive - and I've found my new addiction.

..

* * *

_The End_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys!


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